Turtle the Wallflower
by angel-unknown
Summary: For Sirius Black, getting the girl wasn't usually a problem. The problem was getting  the painfully shy recluse Susan "Turtle" Ponds to realize that Sirius Black and Dodger, her favorite stray, were one and the same. "Please excuse me while I hit my head against the wall for your sake."
1. Chapter 1

Life has a funny way of going about things, setting events in motion, starting things that had once seemed so unlikely as to never have crossed one's mind. In one life in particular, things changed in a day, a meager stretch of twenty-four hours. Not noticeably, of course, but just enough. A little push, one could say. Just enough to start the caterpillar on her way to becoming a butterfly, to use one old adage. Or perhaps more accurately (and with a heartier dose of cheese), to start the turtle on her way to becoming a lioness.

Evening of March 15, 1977

The common room was a warm sort of place, full of tapestries and carpets, couches and pillows all colored in red and gold. At the center of the room holding court were the infamous Marauders, namely, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. James and Sirius, the obvious leaders of the pack, had effectively replaced the lion as the Gryffindor mascots. Lily Evans, the house beauty, and her friends Alice Markwell and Marlene McKinnon looked on disapprovingly, while other students cheered, gazed admiringly, or tried half-heartedly to study.

There were no more than three Gryffindors in the room at that point that were earnestly working on their schoolwork, and not one of them was thinking of staying any longer. Two of these, a pair of second-year twins, headed out together. The third scrambled out the porthole in their wake, letting the portrait swing shut behind her.

Meet Susan Ponds.

Susan was, decidedly, the most unfit Gryffindor in the house. Brave? Nope. She could hardly talk to another human being without bursting into tears. Daring? Hardly. She'd never so much as considered breaking curfew since she'd been at Hogwarts. Chivalrous? Well, there was a rather important proponent of chivalry that involved a degree human interaction and, well, _that _certainly wasn't happening on a regular basis. Susan herself often wondered if it was possible for the Sorting Hat to be wrong. Her grades suggested Ravenclaw, but that was because she worked hard, not because she was gifted. She wasn't friendly enough to be in Hufflepuff (see "Chivalry"), and liked to think that she wasn't any kind of Slytherin. It seemed more likely that she wasn't actually meant for Hogwarts, and only the geography of the genetic lottery had landed her here.

Susan's life had, until this point, been exceedingly uneventful, her life defined mostly by the few memorable social interactions that she'd had, of which there was only one annually, at best.

In second year, Michael Lancetooth had discovered that _ponds _were often places where turtles lived; turtles have a reputation among the ignorant for being shy, and from then on Susan was known as Turtle, or, on occasion, Turtle the Wallflower. Susan had mentally noted that a _lancetooth _was actually a type of slug, but would never in a million years have spoken up.

In fourth year, most girls began (or, in some cases, continued) to, as Madame Pomfrey put it, _blossom._ This was an event that Susan was not invited to, apparently. She grew taller and thinner, completely lacking in curves, ending up looking akin to a lily-pale stick bug in witch's robes. Her usual lack of appetite did nothing to remedy this figure. Where other girls had curves or even muscles, Susan had a light layer of flab. She also had an unfortunate lack of knowledge in the art of eye-brow grooming that lasted until April of that year, when her dorm-mates took more pity on her than usual and gave her a quick lesson in the bathroom.

In fifth year, Susan made her first friend at Hogwarts. His name was Hagrid, the equally-awkward-looking groundskeeper and fellow creature-enthusiast. Being part giant, he was, like Susan, regarded by the vast majority of the student population as someone to be politely ignored or rudely made fun of. Their friendship began when Susan saw him nursing a unicorn behind his hut and managed to trip over a pumpkin while trying to watch. Hagrid had ended up tending to the both of them, while Susan petted the unicorn in a happy daze.

These were the major events of Susan Ponds' live thus far. The 1976-77 school year had been, up until this point, as markedly unremarkable as the rest of her life. The library was a much better habitat for creatures like Susan. Everyone was quiet, studying and finishing up assignments. The only sounds were the rustling of old pages and the occasional whisper. It smelled pleasantly of dust and parchment. Susan found an empty table, dumped her things, and went off to find a copy of _European Casters of the Eleventh Century_ for a report. By curfew, she had finished the remaining eighteen inches needed and had started to work ahead on Transfiguration.

The common room was still moderately crowded when she got back, but no one paid attention as she slipped up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. The other four sixth-year girls were already in the room, getting ready for bed. Susan dropped her bag and sat down on her bed, waiting for her turn at the bathroom. On the bed across from her sat Mary MacDonald, a nice girl who didn't try to make Susan talk. Mary swung her legs back and forth, tapping her fingers on the blankets. "I wish Marlene would hurry up in there, don't you?" Susan nodded.

Marlene finally emerged from the bathroom, her face green with some kind of mask. "This had better work, Alice! That took forever to apply!"

"Yes, we know," muttered Mary. "We've been out here waiting for you."

Mary and Lily both took their turns at the sink, leaving Susan to her usual place. Last. Susan closed the door and put on her pyjamas: an old tee shirt and a pair of flannel pants. When she had brushed her teeth, she spared a bit of time to look in the mirror. What was it like for, say, Lily to look into her reflection? Susan couldn't help but wonder. Did she marvel at how she was so beautiful without even trying? Did Marlene admire her handiwork with the mascara brush? Susan contemplated makeup for a moment and decided against it, as she always had. Makeup was for girls who wanted to be noticed. Besides, she needed to end this train of thought. Feeling sorry for oneself is a stupid waste of time that is so pathetic that, after wallowing in self pity, you are so ashamed as to feel the need to do it all over again. This was a vicious cycle Susan tried her best to avoid. She splashed water on her face and went to bed.

Staring up at the canopy of her bed, she thought. Thinking was like a lullaby for Susan, helping her to sleep. She imagined what it would be like if people saw her. Really _saw _her. It was terrifying, the idea of it, but somehow seductive, to have people want to be around her, to like her. She pushed the thought away and instead thought of real lullabies, Brahms and Tchaikovsky, and drifted off to sleep.

(March 16, or the Day)

The next morning, Susan headed down to breakfast, walking a few feet behind her roommates. Mary threw a glance back over her shoulder but knew it was useless to try to talk. They all sat down at the table, Susan sitting just far enough away to not really be considered part of the conversation but close enough to not look like a complete loser. Even though, she reasoned with herself, she was. There was no real point in trying to hide it. She reached out to snag a slice of toast from the tray in front of her.

Susan squeaked, dropping her toast and scattering crumbs across the table. "Hello there!" said Nearly Headless Nick, his semi-transparent head sticking out of the toast tray. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!" He rose the rest of the way through the table, floating above the breakfasting Gryffindors. Susan, knowing perfectly well that he'd had every intention of scaring her, stuck her tongue out at him. She heard a chuckle off to her left. Turning to see what was funny, she inadvertently caught the eye of Sirius Black. He'd been laughing at _her_, and was now facing her with that obscenely arrogant grin of his. Well, that was no good. She immediately turned her head down to nibble at her toast, letting her hair fall into a curtain around her. _Look away, look away, look away…_ It's not like acting like a put-out six year-old was really that funny.

She finished her breakfast as quickly as she could without making herself sick and headed off to Charms, her first class of the day. Arriving considerably early (as always), she took her time organizing herself and arranging everything on her table. This class was blocked only with Gryffindors and therefore, she was lucky enough to have her own table without having to share because of space constraints. Wand across the front of the table, quill off to the right at a slight angle. Parchment (three sheets) stacked and staggered so that a centimeter of each one showed at the bottom. People often rolled their eyes at Susan's borderline obsessive-compulsive attention to detail, but Susan didn't mind. There was safety in order. With disorder came surprises, which were, in all honesty, a mite frightening.

Charms passed nicely, with a moderately challenging in-class assignment for which students had to master enough control of _Augamenti _to shoot a steady stream of water into a pitcher four feet away. By the time class was over, there were more than a few puddles on the floor and Peter Pettigrew was soaked, but nothing had exploded, seeing as James had spent the entire time trying to win Lily's affections by way of some truly dashing wand work.

Next was Potions, one of Susan's best classes, despite the fact that it was double-blocked with the sixth-year Slytherins with one of whom Susan had to share a table. They didn't learn anything new that period, rather, Professor Slughorn helped them make in tangible form the potion they'd made in theory for an essay assignment two days prior. Susan's came out the perfect color (which was, incidentally, a rather revolting blend of brown and vomit).

"Well done, Miss Ponds! Why, Severus, you may have some competition here!" said Professor Slughorn, in doing so performing the cruelest possible punishment of drawing the attention of the Slytherins toward her. _I'm dead. Someone alert the house-elves, _Susan thought to herself. _There'll be Turtle-soup for lunch today. _However, the Slytherin girl next to her said: "Good job. Someone needed to get that twit off his high academic horse. Even if you are in Gryffindor."

"Oh… thanks," Susan mumbled.

"I'm Roberta," the girl said, holding out one hand.

"Susan. Everyone calls me Turtle, though," Susan said as they shook hands.

"That's weird. You don't even_ look_ like one." With that, Roberta turned back to her cauldron and continued with the assignment.

Susan used the rest of the period to doodle on the back of her hand. On the way out, a foot strayed from a green-lined robe and mysteriously found its way into Susan's path, sending her sprawling across the floor. Severus Snape, nursing his wounded pride and dressing it with a bandage of nasty, continued on his merry way down the hall. At least, he continued all of twelve feet until he was hit in the back with a hex that extended his already prodigious nose to a full length of about a meter.

"Potter, you toe-rag! What did you do that for?" snapped Lily.

"Lily, darling, as much as I would like to take credit, I cannot. Though I can say that he deserved it for tripping poor Turtle there."

"He would never… Keep your friends in line, Potter."

"Actually, I don't think any of us did it," said Remus honestly. Lily seemed to trust him well enough, but was still obviously irked as she left the classroom.

As Susan finished brushing her skirt off, she accidentally made eye contact with Roberta, who winked as she returned her wand to her robes. More than a little dumbfounded, Susan stood awkwardly for a little longer than she should have before finally gathering her senses and walking off to lunch.

Rather than sitting inside the crowded Great Hall, Susan opted to take advantage of the lovely weather and take her plate out to Hagrid's. "Hello?" she called upon arriving.

"Susan? I'm a lil' busy back 'ere, just wait there a moment, nothin' more…" Hagrid called from around back. She sat down on the front stoop and started on a roll. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked up only to find Roberta, the Slytherin from Potions, just as Hagrid came around the side of the hut.

"Oh, um… I thought you were going to eat alone… and… yeah…" Roberta said awkwardly.

"Well, yer welcome teh sit with us, if ye like," said Hagrid, a little surprised. Susan nodded in agreement.

Roberta sat down, rather daintily, on a cloth napkin nicked from the tables inside. She balanced her plate on her crossed legs. "So," she said, "Turtle? Susan? Susan."

Unable to think of anything else to say, Susan answered, "That's my name."

"Yeah, you told me earlier. Anyway. I thought that, since we sit together every other day, we should be friends. It makes sense, don't you think? So much more convenient if we don't have to keep up the whole house-rivalry thing constantly. Plus, I think I like you well enough."

"Oh."

"And I mean, if Evans and Snivellus can do it, we can too, right?"

"I thought… but he's in your house." Susan was, by this point, discombobulated to say the least.

"Yeah, so?"

"You don't like him?"

"Does anyone? Well, besides Evans. But she's like a saint or something. Loves everyone. Except that Potter boy. I have reason to believe she very thoroughly dislikes him."

"Yes, well, she does. Dislike him, I mean."

"You don't talk much, do you?" Roberta asked, crunching through the remains of an apple.

Susan shook her head and realized that Hagrid had left sometime during this conversation. She looked around for a moment and decided that he probably wasn't going to rescue her from this mess.

"Well, this should be interesting. I have to go get some books out of the common room. I'll see you on Friday, or tomorrow maybe." Roberta stood and swept any dirt off of her skirt, shaking the napkin to a similar purpose. "Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye." Susan left the second half of her roll, along with the rest of her plate, uneaten. She'd be hungry for dinner. Hopefully.

Herbology was Susan's next class. All she really wanted for that day was to not be working with anything sticky, venomous, carnivorous, acidic, tentacled, thorned, or otherwise unpleasant or involving effort. She just wanted a nice, relaxing class where she could wind down, maybe take a nap afterward in preparation for Astronomy that night.

As it turned out, Susan got her wish. Professor Sprout was completely snowed under by assignments from other classes, and therefore was giving both herself and her students a much-desired break. They simply stacked pots and organized trowels for the remaining hour and a half. The Marauders made a good show of their masculinity (or, in poor Peter's case, lack thereof). James in particular lifted some very heavy pots, including some with plants in them that were not to be moved. Professor Sprout and Lily Evans were not amused. Susan stuck with what she was able to lift, which wasn't much, but still felt sort of helpful. By the end of the class period, she felt more feeble than anything.

The fact that it was a Wednesday meant that Astronomy wouldn't be called until midnight, so the Gryffindors and their astronomical counterparts, the Hufflepuffs, had a few hours to kill before dinner. Susan excused herself to her dormitory and took the nap she'd been waiting for all afternoon, managing to snooze right through dinner. When she woke up, she righted her robes and went down to Hagrid's. She found him checking on sprouts in his garden.

"Ah, hello there, Susan!" he said. "Good ter see yeh again. How've classes bin treatin' yeh?"

"Good enough, I suppose," Susan replied. "I finished a potion in class today before Severus Snape did, though, I think that's less because I did it better than the fact that he was so busy scribbling in his textbook."

"Yeh need ter give yerself some more credit, Susan! Yer a smart girl. Hey, do yeh think yeh could do me a favor? If yeh could jus' feed the flobberworms for me, tha'd be a big help. There's cabbage in the house," said Hagrid.

Susan nodded and went into the hut, humming as she brought out some cabbage leaves to the flobberworm pens. She began to rip the leaves into shreds, working in time with the song she was humming, scattering the shreds amongst the worms so that they wouldn't overeat. They weren't exactly the brightest of creatures.

There came an odd sound from the woods, a lop-sided rustling that, as it grew closer, was joined by barely-audible whimpering. Hagrid, coming around to investigate, pulled his crossbow out of his coat, though Susan doubted he would use it, even if the animal did turn out to be dangerous. A large black form limped out from the trees. It didn't make much noise and didn't seem threatening, so Hagrid lowered his bow. "Ah, could ye? Ye know…?" he asked.

"What? Oh!" Susan fumbled about in her pockets until she found her wand. "Lumos!" The creature turned out to be a huge dog. It appeared to be injured somehow, which obviously entailed Hagrid immediately wanting to care for it.

"I'll be righ' back," he said, running towards his hut.

Susan knelt and held a hand out to the dog. "Where did you come from, love?" she cooed. "What hurt you so bad, huh? C'mere, sweet. I don't mean you any harm." She beckoned. The dog cautiously made its way towards her, sniffing at her extended arm. Having decided that she didn't pose a threat, it immediately flopped over, its head in her lap, tail wagging. "Well, aren't you the charming lad," Susan giggled. She scratched his ears, her voice going up an octave (or eight) as she babbled at the dog. "Who's a good boy? Aw, such a good puppy. Yes, you are! You are! Oh, what a good boy you are…"

Hagrid emerged from his hut, arms full of bandages and ointments. "Aw, lookit there," he boomed. "Toldja ye had a way with creatures." He put the medical supplies down at Susan's side, dropping a few in the process. "'Ere we go." Soon the dog was properly bandaged and fussed over, leaving Susan with enough peace of mind to finally realize that her Astronomy class had started five minutes ago.

She jumped up. "I'm late! Oh, no, I'm going to be in so much trouble goodbye Hagrid I'll see you later!" The dog shook itself, wagged its tail at her and took off in the opposite direction. Susan sprinted to the castle, hoping to catch a break.

The Astronomy Tower was much too high up for Susan's liking that night. She had hardly gone up two stories' worth of stairs before she was completely winded. "Brilliant," she muttered to herself. "Perfect class to be late to. Yes, Su, let's all just sprint up the tallest tower on the grounds. Wonderful plan."

"I'm sorry?"

Susan jumped, nearly falling back down the stairs. Sirius Black stood a bit below her on the stairs, directly across the width of the tower. It was the second time that day she'd inadvertently caught the eye of the smug idiot. "O-oh, I just… I'm late…" Why couldn't she just talk like a normal human being?

"I noticed, seeing as I am as well. If you want, you can say you were walking me back from the Hospital Wing under Pomfrey's orders. I have a pass, for once." He grinned at her, and although Susan didn't notice (she was purposefully looking over his shoulder) he was trying to catch her eye.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Sure?" she said quietly. She made to turn back up the stairs but twisted her foot in her shoelace and took a tumble.

"Oh!" Sirius ran to where he expected her to fall, and when she hit the ground, he stood there with his arms out as if wondering why she hadn't landed in them. How had he missed? And then he realized. "Did you just… fall _up _a flight of stairs… _backwards_?"

Rather than answering him, Susan simply stood up and picked up her books. Honestly, she'd only landed a few steps above where she'd started. Not that interesting at all, really.

"How did you even _do _that? I mean, don't most people fall _down_ with gravity?" he asked, incredulous. Susan mumbled something about not being most people. Sirius only caught a bit of what she said, though admittedly, that was more than what he'd actually caught of _her _moments before.

"Well, yeah, apparently. Are you okay? Another pass from the Hospital Wing wouldn't hurt our case, walking in as late as we are."

"No, thanks," Susan said. He was being frustratingly nice to her. How dare he go and challenge her preconceptions about him by going and being all nice about things? Susan, now having caught her breath, started her way back up the stairs. She was starting to feel bad. Susan often observed people in her classes and around the grounds, forming judgments and ideas about them, even though they usually never interacted. She had, years earlier, decided that Sirius Black was a self-righteous, vain, womanizing prick who would learn someday that looks aren't everything. He had altered this decision slightly when he turned out to be an extremely talented wizard, proving her wrong in her thought that he was nothing more than a pretty-boy. And now, this.

Of course, he had to hold the door open for her when they reached the top.


	2. Chapter 2

Susan didn't see the dog again until late March. She was perched on a stump, working through a Care of Magical Creatures assignment while Hagrid offered advice from where he was weeding in his garden. Like last time, it was after dinner, the sky darkening. The dog came loping up from the forest, this time uninjured, his tail wagging. "'Ello, what's this?" called Hagrid.

The dog paused at the edge of the garden before trotting over to where Susan was sitting. Susan could have sworn that he was grinning at her as he approached and put his head in her lap. "Well, hello again, you," she said, scratching behind his ears. "Do you play fetch?" she asked him. The dog cocked his head at her. "You know…" she bent down and picked a stick up off the ground. "Fetch?" He barked at her. Susan threw the stick with all of her might across the grounds, which wasn't too bad a distance, all things considered. The dog looked at her with an expression that, in some cosmic, canine way, communicated skepticism. She gestured at the stick, now fallen, lying lonely in the grass. The dog walked across the lawn, taking his own ridiculous sweet time, picked the stick up in his mouth, and came back. "You're supposed to run after it," Susan explained. "Teaching a dog to fetch," she mumbled. "Of all things involving creatures around Hagrid's hut, I'm teaching a dog to fetch. Ridiculous, that is." Throwing the stick once more, she yelled, "Now go get it!" This time the dog ran off after it, catching it neatly in his teeth. He returned, dropping it at her feet with a look on his furry face that could only be described as smug self-satisfaction.

"Looks like he's taken a likin' to yeh," Hagrid commented from the garden.

"Seems he has," Susan replied, tossing the stick again.

"'He 'ave a name?"

"No… but I'm sure I can think of one. What about… Grieg?" She looked at the dog, who looked decidedly unhappy about that particular name. "Like the composer. No? Hmm… What about Peer, then?" He cocked his head again. "Never mind. Percival? Oh come on, he's a knight, don't be so picky. Lionel? What about Lamorak?" The dog made a gagging noise. "Lancelot?" He yipped and wagged his tail. "Yeah, I thought so. No. That's a horrible name, even for a dog," she said. Shot down, the dog in question sighed and closed his eyes. Susan tapped her chin, thinking. "What about Dodger? Like the Artful Dodger?" The dog opened his eyes, looking like he had no idea what she was talking about. Susan groaned, wondering why she'd expected him to know who the Artful Dodger was. "He's a character in Oliver Twist. It's a Muggle story. He's a mastermind pickpocket sort of person. You strike me as a mischievous type. So what do you think? Dodger?" The dog's tail wagged, thumping on the ground. "Alright. Dodger it is, then." He showed his approval by flipping over to be petted again.

"Can you pass me the bottle of salamander blood?"

"Hmm?" Susan looked up from her doodle.

"The salamander blood. Pass. You. It. To me." Roberta grinned. "Where do you even go in that funny head of yours?"

Susan sighed. "I actually have a whole queendom in my head full of thousands of loyal subjects completely devoted to me. There's a castle made of chocolate and a menagerie where I visit all my animal friends who poof in and out according to their mood, which is always good. And everyone travels by bubble." Susan handed the vial to an openmouthed Roberta.

"Merlin's pants! How many syllables _was _that? Forget syllables; that was practically a novel! Where did all of that even come from?" She was clearly flabbergasted.

"Well, you asked," Susan replied, feeling her mouth pull up a little at the corners.

"And you're smiling!" Roberta suddenly narrowed her eyes, stroking the imaginary beard decorating her chin. "Very interesting. All right," she said, leaning in. "Who are you and what did you do with the real Susan Ponds?"

"This _is _the real Susan Ponds, you dolt," she said. "I should have warned you this would happen. My parents get this all the time."

"I don't get it."

"Well, I know you now. You're not so frightening."

"Really? Boo!" Roberta exclaimed, holding her hands up like claws.

"Eek! I take that back," Susan giggled.

"So wait, you're only super-shy around people you don't know? Well, that's easy to fix! We'll just introduce you to everyone. Then you'll be popular. The most popular girl in school."

"Surely you realize that it's not that easy."

"Of course it's not. I was speaking hypothetically. Theory. Which never works in real life," said Roberta.

"Except in Potions, I suppose," Susan said, going back to her doodle.

"Don't go back to your drawing! Go back to being that fountain of wit!" Roberta poked her insistently on the shoulder.

"You should work on the assignment."

"Strengthening potion, shmengthening potion. I want to talk."

"Come off it; I don't know you _that _well," said Susan, suddenly recoiling back within herself. She still had a small smile on her face.

Both girls jumped when Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Alright, class! That's the end of it. Finished are we? Miss Ponds!" He leaned over her cauldron, prompting her to scoot back a little in her chair. "Quite nice, Miss Ponds, quite nice indeed. Five points for Gryffindor. Now, I hope the rest of your potions are up to par!" He turned to Roberta's potion. "Miss Brandish, keep up the… work. Well, now, Mr. Snape, this is also quite good." He continued on, appraising each individual cauldron.

The class was soon excused, though Susan stayed a bit behind to avoid the crush of students rushing through the door. Roberta, having braved the crowd, waited for her in the Great Hall.

At the end of lunch, they said their goodbyes to Hagrid and went their separate ways. Susan made her way to the greenhouse. Hopefully this class would be as uneventful as the week before; Susan crossed her fingers and wished even harder than usual, hoping it would work as well as it had earlier. It didn't.

"Settle, class. Quiet. _Quiet!_" yelled Professor Sprout. After a roar of _shhh_'s, the sixth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs finally quieted to a tolerable level. "Now," started Sprout. "We'll be starting a short, in-class project. You will be in pairs…" The class began to cheer, students sidling up to their best friends. "… of my choosing." There was a collective groan. "Now, hold still." Sprout went around, pointing to each student and giving each a number. "Six, seven, eight, nine, and ten, and you're also one, McKinnon, two, three… And so on. You can count. Now, pair up with the person with the same number as you. No trading, I'll be keeping a watchful eye on _all _of you." Susan, at the end of the row, was the second ten. She held up both her hands with fingers splayed, walking along the fringe of the class, waiting for someone else with her number.

"Ten? Ten? Ten!"

Oh Merlin. Not him.

"_Ten?_"

Anyone but him…

"Ah, Turtle!"

Bother.

Sirius Black and his enormous ego found their way through the class towards her, united by that grin of his. "Hello, partner mine," he said, swinging an arm over her shoulders. She froze, extremely uncomfortable with the situation. He smelled vaguely like a cupcake. A manly cupcake, but a cupcake nonetheless.

"Each pair, come up in numerical order and get a seed. Your assignment is to research its properties, identify it, and properly raise it to maturity. I will tell you that this assignment should take no longer than one week, which should considerably narrow down the number of plants you could be researching. Each of your seeds is different, so don't even try to cheat. It will be harshly punished. Ah, here you are, Bryant, Evans, and you, Potter- stop trying to switch partners- and Lou…"

Sprout gently placed a seed into Susan's hands. Susan turned to Sirius, sighing. "Well, at least we got a distinct one," he said, looking pointedly over to where Remus Lupin was rubbing his temples, his partner Greta Catchlove holding a nondescript brown oval. Susan and Sirius's seed was greenish, with yellow speckles, and shone in the bright light of the greenhouse. "Easier to figure out what it is. Here, let me see," he said, reaching for the seed.

Susan recoiled, cradling the seed against her chest. "You have to be careful with it. Some of them react to motion or pressure," she said softly.

"I'll be careful. What makes you think I won't be careful?" Sirius asked.

"You were reaching for it like Iago Crabbe for a ball of cheese. _Gently._ Like you're holding an endangered bird's egg. Or a duckling. Or a crucial part of a prank of yours or something else fragile and extremely important to you," she said, gingerly placing the seed in his cupped palms.

His head tilted a little as he looked at her. "I think that's the longest chain of words you've ever said to me."

"Why is everyone so interested in the length of my sentences?" Susan mumbled, rummaging through her bag for a quill.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Still holding the seed in one hand, he held a piece of parchment down with his elbow. Susan had already begun to take her own notes on the seed's appearance before she noticed what he was doing. When he saw Susan trying to peek at his parchment, Sirius asked, "Can you hold this? It would help." Susan nodded and took the seed, holding it in her flat hand so that it was easily visible. Sirius continued to scratch away at the parchment with his quill.

"W-What are you… doing?" she asked.

"Well, we'll need a reference after we plant it, so…" He turned the parchment so she could see. It was an ink sketch of the seed, complete with cross-hatch shading and tiny detail. The sketch was nearly photo-realistic. Since when could Sirius Black _draw_? Sirius, noting Susan's raised eyebrows, said: "It helps, when planning mischief, to be able to recognize what the diagrams are supposed to depict." Susan merely nodded in response.

"When you are done noting your seed's properties, you may begin research," announced Professor Sprout. "There are textbooks in the cart at the back, to the left… Yes, that cart, Willaby. No, turn back around, the one that you were just pointing to. Willaby!" Sprout groaned, some students giggling, as Marlene McKinnon grabbed her partner by the shoulders and turned him around to face the books.

"No worries, I've got it," Sirius said. Susan hardly noticed him, as invested as she was in her note-taking. Herbology had never been Susan's strongest subject, but surely a shiny, speckled, green seed couldn't be that hard to identify and plant. Sirius promptly returned with a copy of _Seeds to Stalks: How to Grow Your Magical Plant_, which he dropped on the table, dangerously near the seed. Susan tried not to glare. "I'm hoping that it's something dangerous, myself," Sirius said. "It looks like MacDonald and Markwell got a fanged geranium seed."

Susan turned to him. "And… y-you know what that looks like, right off the top of your head?"

"Oh, my dear lady, you wound me," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "Your underestimation of my knowledge greatly pains me." Susan tried to stop her mouth from twitching. "Ah-ha!" Sirius cried. "Is that a smile I see you trying to hide?"

"No," Susan mumbled, putting a hand over her mouth.

"I think that it was."

"It wasn't."

Sirius could practically see her retreating back into herself, like it was a physical change. He sighed. This would be a tough one to crack, but he was confident in his abilities to bring out the best (or worst) in people. Susan flipped the book open, scanning the table of contents. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, reminding him of that same hand scratching behind his ears. What he wouldn't do for a quick run, right then, through the woods… He realized that her body language suggested disappointment. "What is it?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh… W-well, I mean…" She gritted her teeth for a second, her eyes squinched shut. Then she continued, this time sounding less like a breathless mouse and more like a breathless human. "This book is organized alphabetically."

"So… "

"_So _we'll have to go through each entry one by one, reading about its properties, until we find a match." She was frustrated, both with the book's author's completely logical organization system and with herself. Why couldn't Herbology be easy? Why couldn't she just say what she wanted to say and be done with it? Why was she so scared of people as a general entity?

"Oh, that's no matter, look," Sirius said, pointing to the very first entry. "Abagridine Broadleaf… green, speckled seeds, light, glossy wax coating. Perfect match."

"Maybe… Does it, er, say what color the… speckles are?"

"Well, no, but everything else fits, so I say we're done. Let's plant this little solidified troll bogey and be done with it!" Sirius grinned.

Susan tried not to roll her eyes. "I'm just going to check to make sure there isn't a plant that's described as having specifically yellow speckles. Don't touch it just yet!" she exclaimed as Sirius reached for the seed. He put his hands up in exaggerated resignation. Susan flipped another two pages before she groaned.

"What is it?" asked Sirius, coming to peek over her shoulder. She shifted uncomfortably away from him.

"Look."

Sirius took the book from her hands, ready to smack his forehead with it as he saw what was written on the open pages.

_Babbling Crocus seeds have a greenish tint, with light-colored speckles…_

"It's lying, right?"

"No…" Susan groaned, her head falling forward to hit the table. A muffled "ow" escaped from the curtain of her hair. Sirius had to admit (mentally, of course), it was kind of cute.

As it turned out, quite a few magical plants matched to some extent the properties of their little seed. By the end of class, both Sirius and Susan were shooting envious glances at the previously pitiable pair, Remus and Greta, who were now picking out a pot for their Snarling Snapdragon seed. "Alright," said Sirius, holding up a list. "So far, possible matches are: Abargridine Broadleaf bush, Babbling Crocus, Bane of Kneazle, Draping Drizzlevine, Egreknot, Flutterby Bush, Lagamonde, and Zebra Flower."

"I guess we'll… have to work on it outside of class. I- I think the library would… be a good place to start," Susan managed. "We could… meet. Perhaps during lunch…"

"Yeah, sure, great," said Sirius, walking off towards James as Professor Sprout announced the end of the period. Susan stopped staring at his retreating back and collected her things.

The next day, Susan went straight to the library after Defense Against the Dark Arts. She set her bag down at a table and went off to look for relevant plant literature. Fifteen minutes later she figured Black would have arrived, and went back to the table. He had not. She sat down, flipping open one of the books, and waited. Another quarter hour passed, still with no sign of her partner. Another thirty minutes later, she had finished researching the first three plants and only ruled out one. Mentally declaring Sirius Black a no-show, Susan walked back to the dormitory to change books. As she made her way down the changing staircases, she couldn't decide whether she was more hurt or satisfied. Hurt, because he had deliberately stood her up for a meeting to work on a project that could bring her grade up. Satisfied, because she had been proved right- he _was _the arrogant prick she had always known him to be- and who doesn't enjoy being right?

Susan was on her way to the hospital wing hours later when she bumped into the one person she least wanted to see. She hit the ground with an uncomfortable thud, her books scattering on impact. "Oh, hello there, Turtle. Need a hand?" Susan stared stonily at the flagstone next to her left knee, determined not to interact with one Sirius Black. "Hey, the seed isn't hurt, is it? Didn't want you to land on it or something."

This particular inquiry infuriated her. "You," she spat, snatching her books away from his reaching hands, "have no right, whatsoever, to ask me about our project. If you couldn't be bothered at lunch, you shouldn't be bothered now."

"Well, sorry. What happened to your hand?"

"What?"

"Your hand," he said. "It's bleeding onto your Transfiguration book."

"I got bitten by a doxy. It's a hazard in Care of Magical Creatures. Now leave me alone." Susan stalked off towards the hospital wing, hoping that would be the end of it.

"Hey, Turtle! Wait up!" He caught up to her in three long strides. "At least let me walk you."

By the time they had arrived, Susan had calmed down. "Look," she said.

"I know, about lunch. I forgot."

"You… _forgot_?"

"Yeah, it completely slipped my mind. I'll make it up to you."

"Well, good. Tomorrow is Saturday, luckily for us. We can meet tomorrow morning in the library. There's a table right next to the Herbology section."

"What? But tomorrow's a Hogsmeade day!" Sirius exclaimed. "And- wow, okay, your hand is _really _swollen… you say a doxy did that?"

"So? We need to get this done. There will be other Hogsmeade days. And if we work hard, we might still get the afternoon."

"Okay, Turtle, look." He leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms in front of him. "I understand that you don't really see the necessity of Hogsmeade. Who could blame you? You don't have a life. Me? I have a life. A very active one. Of which Hogsmeade and Saturdays in general are very much an integral part. I'm not going to waste my time on a Herbology project."

Susan couldn't help her mouth falling open a little as he pushed himself off the wall and walked away. Who the bloody hell did he think he was? _Waste his time_? And… she did have a life! It was when she tried to argue this point to herself that she realized that she didn't.

That night, Sirius decided to go for the run he'd been dying for all week. After James dug his cloak out of its hiding place under his mattress, he threw it across the room and into Sirius's eager hands. Now thoroughly invisible, Sirius snuck out the porthole, checking the map every so often on his way down to the entrance hall. With one last glance at Filch's tiny ink footsteps, Sirius pushed open the massive door to the castle, wincing at its equally massive groan. He didn't take of the invisibility cloak until he was safely past the forest's edge, where he folded it neatly and set it at the foot of a tree. Melting into his Animagus form, he took off running.

There were few joys in the whole world comparable to the feeling of a good run. He dashed around trees, leapt over roots, the impact of each swift paw no louder than the breath of a bird. Small creatures scattered as he ran by, their scurrying scents whipping at his face like ribbons. Better than anything, he was free. No responsibility, no restraints, nothing to burden him but gravity, and even that seemed only to have the slightest of holds on him as he flew across the forest floor. Partway through his wide loop of the castle grounds, a foreign sound perked his ears. Slowing to a halt, he listened more closely. It was kind of squeaky, a choked, airy sound that could only mean one thing. He padded closer to the edge of the trees, seeing a hunched-over figure huddled into the rocky slope to the west of the castle. The spot was completely shielded from view off the main grounds, the perfect hiding spot. The girl's form trembled with her light sobs. With a guilty pang, Sirius caught her scent and realized who it was.

Susan looked up. "Dodger?" Her face was red and blotchy, her cheeks wet. Sirius wasn't sure what to do, feeling awkward in that he wanted to comfort her, but also knew that she wasn't exactly a fan of him, and… Wait, what was he thinking? She disliked _Sirius. _She _loved _Dodger. With this in mind, he bounded up to her, placing his shaggy head on her knees. He wagged his tail slowly, unsure. She smiled weakly, her lips quivering, but the effort was broken by a hiccup and more tears. "D-Dodger…_hic_… Hi-hic-there…" she gulped. "I've just…" she sniffed heavily. "I've just had a really, really, bad day, you know?" Her voice broke. "First, that complete git Black _forgot _about our project in the library today," she scoffed. "I mean, he _forgot_? _Forgot? _He couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent…decent excuse!" Her tears started back up again in force. "And a doxy bit me, and it hurt worse than anything, and my hand was all swollen and that complete, utter, total, blindingly arrogant toe rag of a human being tells me that I have no life and I mean, it's true! That's the worst part!" She began to sob again. Sirius felt like she'd just punched him in the stomach. _He _was the reason she was out here? He'd never meant to hurt her feelings, let alone do something like this… Now that he thought about it, he had been feeling particularly mean, ever since Snivellus managed to land a hex on Remus earlier. Remus never even teased that grimy git, anyway. His mind went back to the crying girl in front of him. "And then, when I got closer to the Great Hall," she sputtered, "Rienne Halloway and Gretchen Summers and some other Ravenclaws and Slytherins were all crowded together in the doorway, and I had to go through them to get to dinner, and when I asked to get by Rienne said, 'Sure, beanpole,' and Gretchen muttered 'gutter troll' and 'no-mates' and they were all laughing at me, and I couldn't even get through, and I was actually hungry for once, and there was apple pudding, but I couldn't even go in, and when I walked away, someone tripped me and I… I… I mean, _what is it with tripping me, anyways?" _She clenched her fists. "_What is wrong with me_? I mean, am I really so… so… _Rrrrrrrrrraaggh!_" she cried, falling back against the rocks. If the landing was painful, she didn't show it.

Sirius nudged her shoulder with his nose in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug. Her ribs poked at his shoulder awkwardly, but he let it happen. He was partially at fault, and therefore needed to do penance. It was just then that he had a brilliant idea. He leapt up, causing her to flinch a little, and started to run back towards the woods. "Wait!" Susan cried. "Don't…" She trailed off as he came back to sit by her. How was he supposed to tell her to wait where she was? Sirius started to trot off again, but Susan stood to follow. He turned around and yipped. "What?" she asked, looking to the woods like she was expecting to see a monster looming in the trees. Sirius rolled his doggy eyes. He padded back over to where she stood, gently took her hand in his mouth, and led her back to where she'd been sitting. He then walked off again, periodically glancing back at her to make sure she wasn't going anywhere. Once he entered to forest, he sprinted at top speed back to where he'd stowed the invisibility cloak.

Once again an invisible human, Sirius jogged back to the castle. Following the map, he made his way down the many winding corridors to the still life painting that he knew so well. Reaching up, he brushed his fingertips across the pear, waiting for it to giggle and admit him entrance. The frame swung open, revealing the kitchens. The rooms were dark and sleepy, most of the house elves done with the dishes from dinner and not yet cooking for breakfast. However, one or two always hung around, ready to serve any student who happened to pop by. "Spindle?" called Sirius into the shadows. With a loud _crack_, a bright-eyed, wrinkle-faced elf appeared in front of him.

"Oh, glorious to see you, Mister Black!" Spindle chirped. "Some jam doughnuts for you, then, sir?" The house elf was already making to fix them.

"Ah, not tonight, Spindle," said Sirius. The house elf immediately zoomed right back to Sirius's side. "I'll need a… an apple bread pudding. That was served a dinner, right?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Be right back, sir!" Spindle Disapparated with a snap, reappearing only moments later, with a platter of pudding in hand. "Here, Mister Black! Is there anything else you need?"

Sirius looked at the platter, realizing the dilemma that that particular mode of food transportation posed to a dog. "Spindle…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is there… I need a basket, as well. To put the pudding in. And a fork."

"Right away, sir!" Spindle once again popped away and back, this time with a covered basket. "Will that be all, Mister Black?" he squeaked.

"Yes, Spindle," said Sirius, taking the basket. Within minutes he was trotting back across the grounds, the basket clutched between his canine teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

Susan awoke the next morning happier than she had been in a while. Her eyes and cheeks were still slightly sore from the tears of the night before, but her stomach still felt full of her favorite food and she had a friend. Dodger might just be a dog, but he was the best listener she'd ever known and was, obviously, magical. There was no other way about it. He was simply too intelligent (and capable of procuring Hogwarts puddings on a whim) to be a normal dog.

The sun shone through the window by her bed, the weather for once agreeing with her mood. Susan stretched, her back popping satisfyingly. The other girls were still fast asleep, despite the light streaming through the glass, preferring to sleep in until the gates opened to Hogsmeade later in the morning. Susan, however, had a project to be working on. If Sirius Black decided not to grace her with his presence, all the better. She had the seed, anyway. She didn't need him at all.

Merlin, she needed him. She'd only been in the library for half an hour before she found herself completely lost. What was the difference between a gloss coating, a wax coating, and a glossy wax coating? Speckles and Spots? Her head hit the table with a _thump. _She would never figure this out on her own. The distant tolling of the clock-tower bell echoed into the library, the ten chimes signaling the mass exodus. Sirius Black would probably be on his way to Hogsmeade now, arm in arm with his idiot counterpart, James Potter. Susan clenched her hand into a fist, imagining Sirius's overinflated head in her crushing grasp.

The _smack _of book on wood nearly startled her out of her chair. She looked up, only to find the person she last expected to see. "Wha- What on Earth are you… But…"

"Well," said Sirius, dropping the remainder of his things on the table next to his Herbology textbook. "I figured you could use my help. And besides, I'm too proud to let my grades drop _that _far."

Susan could only stare as Sirius plopped into the chair opposite her. He looked up at her, shrugged at her expression, and cracked his book open.

"So, I was thinking, we could hurry and get this done in a couple hours or less. I do still need to get to Hogsmeade. Alright with you?"

"Uh…"

"Great. Let's get to work." Sirius immediately busied himself studying the properties of the flutterby bush and its seeds. He noticed Susan's slack-jawed stare. "Well?"

"Oh!" She jumped back into her copy of _Vivacious Vines_.

After two hours, the pair had successfully ruled out three more of the five remaining plants, which, added to the two other remainders from earlier, left only four possibilities. Susan only hoped that whatever the plant turned out to be, it grew quickly. They only had one more day before the project was due.

"So, listen…"

Oh, dear. Black was talking again.

"I was thinking, seeing that it's about lunchtime, and I'm using up so much energy growing into such a strapping, devastatingly handsome young man, that we should work on this over lunch. I vote Three Broomsticks."

Susan thought on it. She _was _hungry, but the Three Broomsticks on a Saturday didn't seem like the best to get schoolwork done. Then again, what harm could it do? She was particularly skilled in tuning people out, wasn't she? "I suppose…"

"Fantastic!" Sirius had already collected their books into his bag. He grabbed her arm. "Let's go!"

As Susan came to find out, the setting of the Three Broomsticks did quite a bit of harm. Students bounced off the aged, paneled walls, both literally and figuratively, while waitresses dodged flying jinxes, insults, and Butterbeer cream. The whole place smelled like butterscotch and tartar sauce, tempered with malt vinegar and human odor. More than the smell, the sheer _noise._ Everyone shouted constantly, vying to be heard in the roar. Glasses clinked in a constant ring like a wind chime; a chair fell over somewhere to the left. And worst of all, the three man-children that greeted Susan's roguish partner. "Padfoot! _PADFOOT! OVER HERE! _How are you this fine day?" James Potter shouted amiably as the pair arrived at the table. He shoved a pint of Butterbeer in Black's general direction, sloshing foam over the sides of the mug and onto the table.

"_Quite well, quite well!_" Sirius shouted back. "Got a bit of _work _to do, don't we there, Turtle?" He ruffled the top of her head, mussing her hair irreparably. Susan cringed and tried to find a clear place on the table to deposit her books. Remus Lupin graciously moved his own drink and bags of Honeydukes sweets, gesturing to the now empty space. Susan flashed him a grateful smile before sitting down.

_Now what was that? _Sirius wondered. Did Turtle just _smile_? Maybe this was a better idea than he had even anticipated. Here he was, only planning to skip out on some homework and still seem responsible, and he had not only accomplished that, but also managed to crack a bit of Turtle's shell! He hadn't been this pleased with himself since that morning, having woken up in a brilliant mood.

Susan tried desperately to remain pleasant. Remus, the only decent one in the group, had been absorbed in the chatter, leaving her socially stranded. With all the noise, Susan could hardly breathe, let alone think well enough to work on a project. Her hands felt damp and cold, while her head and neck grew ever warmer. Her fingers felt like electrified lead. She knew she couldn't possibly work like this, but continued to stare determinedly at her own handwriting. The ink had long since lost its meaning, no more than a bit of colored line. How could anyone enjoy a place like this? There was a buzzing in her head. Had it always been so stuffy? She felt like she was nigh about to suffocate. Without a thought, she scrambled out of her seat, snatching her books and practically running out of the pub.

The early spring air was chilled, but open, the streets relatively quiet. The light frost crunched delicately under Susan's worn-out shoes, a welcome change. Her ears seemed to ring with the silence of it all, the peacefulness. The world sparkled, clean and open. This was her element, her habitat.

Susan wandered down the main road, finally coming to a rocky outcropping overlooking the castle and the Quidditch pitch. Pulling her jacket a little tighter, she sat down, set her books in her lap, and began working. _This _was the way to do coursework, she decided. The breeze was strong enough to be refreshing but light enough so as not to blow away her parchment, while the light of the stainless-steel sky outlined her handwriting. Susan looked at her hands, holding her quill and parchment. Her left hand was nearly covered in ink, faded and new, notes to herself to be copied into journals or some such repositories of thoughts. The skin of the other hand, her wand hand, was clear of ink, smooth and clear. Susan had always liked her hands. In the grey light, they seemed almost otherworldly- shimmering skin and long fingers. She even dared to fancy those hands pretty. Of course, all this was silly. There was nothing pretty about her. Susan snapped out of her daze, shifting her eyes from her hands to her handiwork, the combined notes of the morning. Looking at the notes, she briefly wondered if she would be able to finish the project alone. She'd have to try, regardless.

"Aren't you feeling the least bit guilty, Padfoot?"

"Hmm?" Sirius looked up from his turkey leg, grease dripping down his chin.

"You're disgusting," Remus commented, his lip curling. "I _said, _aren't you feeling at least a mite guilty?"

"About what, dear Moony? I've committed so very many crimes against humanity, it's hard to keep track." Sirius grinned. Remus gestured to the seat that once held one Susan Ponds, empty for half an hour or more. Noting the complete lack of Susan, Sirius yelped. "How long has she been gone? Ah, cripes, I've gone and offended her again, haven't I?"

With that, Sirius grabbed his coat, leaving a galleon on the table, and left the pub. Outside, there was no sign of his missing partner. After checking a few of the shops, Sirius figured that she must have gone back to the castle, probably to the library or some other quiet place where an equally quiet girl could get work done. It wasn't until Sirius actually arrived at the library, some time later, that he realized that Susan wasn't there, nor was she in the house study room, nor the common room. After a while of honest searching, Sirius decided to cheat. He stole up to the boys' dormitory, rummaged around in his drawers, and pulled out the Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited, feeling dramatic (he loved that password, not the least because it had been his idea). He traced the appearing lines of Hogwarts' walls and boundaries, looking for a particular set of labeled footprints. She was nowhere in the castle, not around the lake… there! She was alone near the road to Hogsmeade; he must have passed right by her on the way back to the castle. _Merlin, that girl blends into the background, _Sirius thought, only to chastise himself for his mental insensitivity. He could practically hear Moony griping on about how _callous_ he was towards _most_ people's _feelings_. Most, because when it came to those to whom he was close, he was completely in tune, and that was what mattered, anyway. Sirius replaced the map and made his way down the tower stairs.

Susan was just scratching through _Draping Drizzlevine_ when a shadow fell over her work. Looking up to see what or who was blocking her light, she found one Roberta Brandish.

"Why, hello there, Susie Q," Roberta drawled, eyes shining. "Fancy meeting you here."

Susan, still unused to normal conversation (was this… exactly… normal?), could think of nothing to reply with. So: "Susie Q?"

"Indeed. Q for Quaffle. I wanted to work on my block. Today. And no one else on the team wants to. So, you then. Please?"

Susan glanced back down at the project in her lap, wondering if taking a break was really the brightest idea. Her notes were dotted with holes where she had taken her stress out on the parchment, the ridiculously similar descriptions of several plant species copied down and scribbled upon. She decided that she didn't really care what was a bright idea anymore, at least not while she was this stuck. Surely, a break would help. Yes. Of course it would. She turned her eyes back to Roberta. "So… the Quidditch pitch, then?"

Roberta grinned triumphantly. "I knew I could make you take a break. It's healthy, you know." With that, she reached out for Susan's arm, intending to pull the girl along behind her, until the pair was startled by a shout.

Sirius, jogging down the path near where he'd seen Susan on the map, rounded a hillock only to find Susan, being harassed by a Slytherin. Remembering Susan's earlier tears, his first reaction was to yell. "Hey! Fork-Tongue!"

The Slytherin girl turned, intimidating in her marble features and height that put her at eye-level with him. "Can I _help_ you?" she intoned.

"Do I _know _you?" Sirius retorted.

A sigh from behind the Slytherin reminded Sirius of Susan's presence. "Turtle!" he exclaimed. The Slytherin rolled her eyes. Sirius pointedly ignored her.

Susan rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes shut. When she opened them, she stared at a point on the ground somewhere to Sirius's left. "I'm… taking a break. It's apparently healthy," she said, her voice quiet. She turned to the Slytherin harpy. "I'll be there in a moment." With one last icy glare in Sirius's direction, the other girl stalked off.

"What's she doing bothering you? Can I hex her?" Sirius already had his wand out.

"What? No! She's my friend!" Susan squeaked.

"_What?_ Why? You can't possibly be friends with a Slytherin. They're a whole nest full of slimy bastards. More like slugs than snakes, I say. Disgusting."

Susan straightened, her eyes narrowing, though still not meeting his. "She's been nicer to me in the past month than _anyone _in Gryffindor has been to me in my entire life! You of all people," Susan snapped, "have absolutely no room to speak badly of anyone. There is more compassion in her right shoelace than there is in your entire, overly-primped body!"

Sirius stared at her. She was breathing heavily through her nose, her hair in her face. Suddenly, she began to fidget, knocking imaginary dust off of her sleeves. He'd had the same lecture from Remus countless times, but never so vehemently and never from someone so meek. How was he supposed to respond to that, anyway? "Overly-primped?" he asked, dismayed.

"_That's _what you took from that?"

"That's the only part I haven't heard before. Really, overly-primped?"

"Yes. Borderline-feminine."

"Hmm." Sirius looked off in another direction, lost in thought.

Susan waited for him to restart the conversation. When he didn't, she asked: "So, did you need something…?"

"Oh, yes." Sirius's head snapped back to the present. "Right. How's the project going?"

"Horribly." Susan resisted the urge to add a: "No thanks to _you_." She pulled a book out of her bag. "I _did _manage to rule out Drizzlevine and… Bane of Kneazle, I think. You… might want to check. Here, I thought that this…" She pulled a heavy textbook from her bag, flipping through the pages. "… would mean that- oh, no!"

"What is it?" Sirius asked, as Susan began rubbing frantically at the bottom of the open page.

"I-I-I'm so… so… ugh! Idiot, clumsy wretch of a girl Susan you…" she trailed off, muttering.

"What?"

"Butterbeer stain," Susan said, despairing for her previously marvelously civil relationship with Madame Pince.

"That's it?" Sirius asked. "Silly girl, that's nothing. Prepare to be blown away as I, Sirius Black, wizard extraordinaire, fix all of your problems." He whisked the book out of her hands, tapping it with his wand. "Maculexio."

Susan watched, astonished, as the Butterbeer dissolved entirely out of the paper. She finally met his eyes. "What spell was that?"

"Macule- what are you doing?"

Susan paused from rummaging about in her bag to answer: "Quill…" Drawing one out of the pockets, she nodded at him.

"Ah, Maculexio."

"Aumaclexio?"

"No, just mack-ul-ex-ee-oh," Sirius pronounced carefully. Susan repeated the incantation under her breath, inking the letters phonetically onto her hand, along with all the other notes to self. "What's all this, anyway?" Sirius asked, reaching for her hand. Before he got close, however, Susan flinched and stepped back, mumbling something about meeting Roberta before dashing off.

A quarter of an hour later, Susan was seated on a borrowed broom, hovering over the pitch. "I'm pretty sure this is considered an act of treason…" she said. "Aiding the enemy and all that."

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Roberta called from the hoops. "Just throw!"

"Are you sure I'm really the one you want to do this? You might actually damage your skill set. The same principle applies to Professor Binns, for example. Where you lose seven-point-two-five IQ points per class."

"_Someone _has been paying far too much attention in Arithmancy. Just throw the bloody ball!"

And Susan did. Right into Roberta's waiting hands. The Slytherin grinned and returned it, saying something about actually trying this time. Balancing the Quaffle in her lap, Susan wrung her arms, hoping that circulation would make her attempts less pathetic. Roberta didn't even try to disguise her laughter. "Alright, then, here we go," Susan encouraged herself. "Just like with Thomas." Thomas, her older brother, had been the star of Hufflepuff house, an unstoppable chaser and loving sibling. He'd gone off to play for Puddlemere five years prior. Before then, he and Susan had spent long summer afternoons keeping him in practice. With Thomas in mind, Susan drew her arm back, tensed for a moment, and then hurled the Quaffle through the chill air. It whipped past Roberta's dark hair and flew through the middle hoop.

Roberta's jaw dropped. "What the _bloody hell," _she shrieked,_ "was that?"_

Susan tried to suppress a grin. And failed.

"You cheeky little trollop! Where has _that _been? Where did that even come from?"

Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, Sirius was reevaluating his choices in personal hygiene. Feminine. _Feminine_, she'd said. Merlin's ass he was feminine. He picked up a tin of Madame Primpernelle's Magical Mane Shine Potion. Assessed the pink label. "It's _salmon_, mate," James had reassured him. Thinking back to that moment, Sirius wondered if the look on his friend's face had really been so different from the look he'd worn while watching Iago Crabbe devour a cheesecake charmed to turn him purple. He groaned.

Soon afterward, he stood at the top of the nearest changing staircase. Below were the openings of several long corridors. Cringing, he kicked a bottle of lotion down the rapidly alternating stairs. It was only the first in an embarrassingly large pile of products. If there was one thing that Sirius Black was, wholly and completely, it was _masculine._ He would never be described as feminine again. Why had no one else ever pointed this out before? A few more bottles and jars careened into various hallways. After several minutes, Sirius was down to the last bottle. It was a body-wash he'd been particularly fond of. Vanilla. It had always been his favorite, and it hurt to let it go. "To Good Home" he'd written on it, knowing that he couldn't keep in his possession anything covered with so much curly script and glitter.

"So your brother is _the _Tommy Ponds? And everyone thought it was such a great joke, 'ponds' and 'puddles.' It was funny. Like wordplay." Roberta locked the broom cupboard and began to unstrap her headgear. "I always fancied him. On Tommy, I mean. That's awkward! Would have never guessed."

Of course she wouldn't have. No one did. Thomas was handsome, athletic, confident. That's what had made the secret so easy to keep. No one suspected Susan, the awkward, blubbering, git of a Turtle, of being related to Tommy Ponds. Everyone had liked Tommy. Loved him, even. Even the Slytherins could hold nothing but Muggle blood against him.

As the two girls walked back to the castle for dinner, Susan tried not to think too much about her brother. As much as she loved him, somehow, being reminded of him always made her feel like a pile of dragon dung. It certainly didn't help that she smelled rather awful after doing drills with Roberta, so Susan decided to head up to the showers.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait up for you?" Roberta asked.

"Positive. You go enjoy your… whatever it is that's being served tonight." Susan made her way from the entrance hall to Gryffindor tower, taking a few detours to avoid having to fight through the stream of hungry students, salmon-style. Towards the end, she found the only route to the shower blocked by a crowd of Gryffindors, mostly younger, though she heard the distinctly obnoxious tones of Sirius Black and his friends. Angling herself at the wall to avoid being trampled, Susan instead felt her foot rolling off of something hard, a clinking sound accompanying her squeak of distress as, before she even realized what had happened, Susan found herself painfully meeting the floor. As to why she never managed to catch herself in these situations, Susan could only wonder briefly. Immediately, however, all thoughts were scattered as a pair of male hands grasped hers, lifting her off of the stones. Ignoring Marlene's barely-restrained laughter and Lily's sharp "Oh, shut _up_," Susan met the eyes of one Remus Lupin.

"Hullo, Susan," he said. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. She was actually rather aware of several quickly-forming bruises, but that knowledge was of no particular use to anyone.

"You're sure?" Remus looked off to her left and down. "Sirius, isn't that _your-_"

"_No_." Sirius scowled. "Absolutely not."

Susan glanced behind her. There, on the floor, was a half-empty jar of hair potion.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oi, Remus," Sirius said through a mouthful of eggs. His friend's mouth twitched in a brief, disgusted grimace. Sirius swallowed. "On a scale from bookish to dashing, you're a four, correct?"

"I'm just going to nod and hope I won't regret it," Remus replied, focusing on his oatmeal. It needed more cinnamon, to his taste. Reaching for the golden container that appeared next to the fruit bowl, Remus asked, "So, why?"

"And on a scale from total strangers to best mates you and Turtle are a three, I'd estimate. I'd put myself at a one and five-eighths. So I was thinking…"

"Oh no!" cried James, entering the conversation with his usual contribution of melodrama. "Padfoot has been attempting to utilize that organ so vestigial in the Black family, his _brain_!"

Sirius scowled, not particularly appreciating the comparison of him to the rest of his… _family_. If one could even go so far as to so entitle such a horde of inbred, hateful, grimy-grubby, filthy-awful-

James hit his friend's shoulder in apology. "Did it hurt, you poor boy? Trying to think? I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you, dear." He grinned widely, hoping Lily was listening. He felt rather clever this morning.

"_As _I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Sirius said, throwing a significant look in Potter's direction, "Remus. You and Catchlove still have work to do on the Herbology project, right?"

"Yes, but not very much…"

"Brilliant! Then you and dear Greta will join me and Turtle after lunch for a sort of… double-study-date." He frowned at the word "study," and more at the word "date." With Turtle. While not as shudder-inducing as the drooling face of Orchid Graveson (a Slytherin currently dating seventh-year Gregor Parkinson), Turtle was not someone Sirius would _ever _want to actually date. Dating her, he thought to himself determinedly, would be akin to dating… well, a turtle. He turned back to his friend. "Come with me, Moony."

Susan pushed her eggs around her plate. She'd already had her fill of toast and blueberries- blueberries being the one colorful food she consistently found appetizing- and was hoping to get some protein in when two forms sat themselves down beside her. She groaned inwardly.

"What? Don't you enjoy my company?" Black asked.

Apparently, her inward groan had been more outward than she'd intended. She looked down at her plate, letting her hair curtain around her face to hide the flush of embarrassment.

"Lay off her, will you? I apologize for his sake," Remus said over Sirius's dismayed protests. "We came with a… request, if you will."

"Indeed, a proposition," said Black to Susan's left.

"Well, sort of. We were just wondering if you would like to join us in the library tonight to finish our projects, say after dinner. Greta and I will be there, so we can all help each other or just sit in silence… whatever works for you."

"Ah, Moony, always the diplomat," commented Sirius.

Susan, flustered and still a little bit annoyed, mumbled some kind of affirmative reply and wriggled backwards out of her seat. The two human barricades on either side of her didn't make it any easier. No, the one human barricade, she decided. The other a sweet but clueless boy who had taken in with the wrong crowd. Thinking of her own choice in friends, Susan guessed she really couldn't begrudge him his strange and nonsensical associations. Even if Black and Potter _were _(to quote the ever-eloquent Lily Evans) "toe-rags."

Just barely managing to not fall on her bum, Susan hurried out of the Great Hall. As she had nothing better to do, she climbed the stairs to the seventh corridor (no easy feat for a Turtle) and pulled a spare scrap of parchment out of her bag. _I really need to hide this, _she thought to herself, as loudly as she could. _This scrap is extremely incriminating in its blankness. No one must ever find this particular bit of parchment. I really, _really _need this hidden extremely well…_ She smiled, noticing the door etching itself into the stone of the wall.

_It was a moonless night, cloud-dimmed starlight filtering through the tall, narrow windows. A short, pig-tailed girl and her brother snuck onto the landing. Her ratty t-shirt reached past her knees, while his fluffy bathrobe was a gift from his girlfriend. The girl's eyes were wide as saucers; she clutched his arm, knowing that his casual experience was the only thing standing between her and expulsion. Being out at night was sure to earn her a detention if she was caught, and with her luck, it would only be the first in a dreadful, downward spiral. _

_ "Relax, Sue. Just be quiet and follow me. Besides, once we get in, no one will be able to find us." He patted her head in a way that, had it been anyone else, would have seemed infuriatingly condescending. Thomas, however, was nothing but kind to anyone, none more so than his baby sister. _

_ "B-but, Thomas, what if-!" His hand clamped over her mouth, quickly ending what probably would have been a long, squeaky tirade. _

_ "Now, listen closely, I'm only saying this out loud for your benefit. Normally, I would only have to think this. In my head." Thomas looked down at the first-year with all the default authority of Head Boy. He grinned and swung her around by her shoulders to stand in front of him. "I really need to hide this firstie. I can't possibly be seen hanging around an ickle first-year. I really need to hide her somewhere no one will ever find her. Wherever could I find such a place? This is really quite a- ah, here we go."_

_ Susan's jaw dropped as a door materialized in front of them, where previously there had only been blank wall. Winking, Thomas opened the door. _

Susan didn't know if the room had a name, though judging by the millennia of history the castle contained, it probably had one. She preferred to think of it as her personal sundry shop. Innumerable objects had been hidden within its arching vaults throughout the years, accumulating into massive drifts and towers of the forgotten. Thomas had reassured her that the likelihood of taking anything hidden by a classmate and being found out was miniscule. Still, Susan tried not to take anything that looked recent, just in case. In the years since Thomas had first showed her the room, Susan had found countless bobs and trinkets, including her favorite, horribly outdated zoological textbook (full of brilliant ink illustrations) and several pretty bracelets of which she was quite fond.

As Susan wandered through the piles, she thought about the evening to come. If she and Black were to finish that project after dinner that night, she'd have to do some substantial work that afternoon. She leaned over to pick up a jeweled pendant that sparkled faintly under a thin layer of dust. The babbling crocus, bane of Kneazle, and flutterby bush were the only remainders, Susan reminded herself. It had to be one of the three. A few old records caught her eye. She would have to figure out whatever it was quickly, seeing as they had to have the plant raised by… That was it! Only Kneazle-bane could possibly grow so quickly as to be mature within a week! If Susan could have given herself a high-five, she would have. As it was, she settled for a clap and matching squeal of private pride. Ready to head back down to the common room to finish the project, Susan's gaze settled on one last thing. It was a charming little bottle of soap, obviously recent, but also obviously up for grabs. _To good home_, read the label. Surely anyone who still wanted it wouldn't have written such a note. Susan picked it up, smelled it (vanilla, what a fantastic scent) and happily placed it into her bag. Deciding to visit Hagrid, Susan made her way down the changing staircases and past the entrance hall.

Susan's beautifully good mood was abruptly shattered as she walked outside. Rienne Halloway and Gretchen Summers stood, backs to her, mere feet away from the arch. Susan jumped to the side, pulling her hood over her face and stepping around a column. She pressed her back against the stone, praying the two girls would leave so she could get on with her day.

"What're you doing , there, Turtle? Hiding from us, are we?" Susan suppressed a yelp as a hand reached around the column and jerked the hood from her head. Rienne continued, "That's no good. Silly little thing. That's so rude, and so unlike a bold, brave Gryffindor. Sorry little mistake, aren't you? I think our little gutter-troll needs to be taught a lesson, don't you think?"

Gretchen heartily agreed. "Rudeness is so unbecoming in amphibians."

_Reptiles_, Susan thought helplessly as the two Slytherins whipped out their wands. Before Susan could even remember whether she'd brought her wand with her or not, she was upside down.

Sirius reveled in the feeling of being insensible. Twigs snapped beneath his paws as he raced James's stag around the forest. Much against Remus's very sound advice, the two had gone for a highly risky midday run. He ran as hard as he could, flying through the underbrush, but he still couldn't match James's easy grace (not to mention height). He slowed, watching his friend bound off into the woods. Sirius sat for a quick breath, ready to hide so that he could pounce when James came back around looking for him. Instead, another instinct set in. _Wrong._ Something was _wrong_. It was _bad mean dark evil unpleasant in general_. And it was close to the castle. It was similar to the feeling he got whenever Snivellus was around, or any member of his family. But it wasn't any of those. Feeling adventurous and knowing that Remus would disapprove, he trotted into the broad, open daylight of the castle lawns.

Two sixth-year Slytherins he knew only by face had cornered a smallish shape against a column. _"Levicorpus!" _one of them shouted. The other grabbed their victim's bag as it fell to the ground and began rummaging through it. Sirius's dog form groaned loudly upon realizing who the smallish shape was. Again? He wondered, for a moment, why the figures seemed to be growing closer. He then realized that he was walking towards them. Well, that was it. He was involved. Plus, she'd brought him so many, many treats in the past few weeks.

He approached, head down, hackles up, growling low in the back of his throat. The Slytherin girls spun around to face him. The shorter one's eyes widened, but the other only rolled her eyes before narrowing them at the dog. She was very beautiful, thick lashes and lithe frame. Halloway, that was her name. Rienne Halloway. "Dodger?" Turtle squeaked, falling into a heap on the ground as Rienne pointed her wand at Sirius instead. He growled again, still trotting closer to the scene. As he came to stand next to Turtle, who still cowered on the ground with her arms shielding her head (as if _that _was any kind of defense against hexes, he thought, honestly, did the girl have a whit of sense about her?), Sirius began barking. Loudly. Ferociously. Obnoxiously. All he needed to do was to cause a scene, and the two girls would leave. Simple.

The short one was obviously uncomfortable, but by this point, Halloway was becoming dangerously irritated. Sirius would know; bad things happened when Slytherins got irritated.

True to form, Rienne's mouth formed a cruel (if absolutely perfect) smirk. Ugh. There was nothing worse in the world than a Slytherin who didn't mind causing a scene. Sirius continued to bark, his human mind racing to think of a solution to save his currently canine arse without revealing himself.

"Rienne, what _are _you _doing_? A dog? Really? That's your new thing? It's a pathetic animal. Which makes for pathetic modes of amusement. I thought you were above this," said another Slytherin, approaching. As if this could possibly get any better: It was the annoying Slytherin from the day before. Turtle's… friend? "I understand messing with Turtle. Really, I do," she continued, stepping out from the castle's grand doorway. "But her dog?"

"It was being loud," Halloway replied, neither lowering her wand nor breaking eye contact with the dog. "It needs to learn a lesson."

"Well, dear, I hardly think you're qualified to train a dog in etiquette." Behind Halloway's lovely head, the other Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "You should know I don't approve of animal abuse."

Rienne finally turned to face her, wand still pointed in Sirius's general direction. "Oh, please, Brandish. I wasn't going to do anything… _bad._ Just scare it a little, that's all."

Sirius growled. Scare him? Scare _him?_ Ha. Sirius laughed (albeit inwardly) at the notion.

"Scare him? Ha. You'd only make him mad," Brandish (_that _was her name) said. Turtle was uncurling just enough to begin to edge her way away from the scene. Halloway and her crony noticed, but did nothing, instead huffing and slinking back into the castle. Brandish, making sure they were gone, stepped down to help Turtle up. "Hey. You alright?"

"I… I…" Turtle managed. She was shaking.

"Calm down. Angry or frightened? Both? Angry? Okay, come on. To the Pitch," Brandish said, taking Turtle by the arm. The Pitch? Sirius wondered. The Quidditch Pitch? He padded after the girls until they did indeed come to the Quidditch Pitch. The two girls disappeared into the locker rooms while, despite his great temptation, Sirius stayed outside. There were better catches to follow into the girls' locker rooms. He wondered what was going on. The two girls emerged in practice pads, brooms in hand. Turtle had a Quaffle under one arm. Curious, Sirius trotted over to them.

"Aw, cute," Brandish said. "He wants to watch. Here. I'll take this. You take him."

"You think?" Turtle asked, scratching behind his ears. Seeing her friend nod, she mounted her broom before leaning over to gather Sirius up into her arms. "Hold on, Dodger, fluffy-boo," she cooed, noticing his distinct discomfort, but clearly not cuing in on the cause. He resigned. She'd hugged him before, and it hadn't been _that _dreadful. He could deal with it for a little while.

The two girls kicked off the ground, Turtle much more gracefully than he'd expected. He'd known that the other could fly, being keeper for the Slytherin team, but hadn't expected someone with Turtle's coordination (or lack thereof) to be able to maneuver so well. She glided over to one of the stands near the northern hoops, setting him down on a bench in the first row. "Good boy!" she said, taking off once more.

Brandish tossed the ball between her hands for a moment before lobbing it full force at Turtle. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, sure that the next thing he would hear would be the sound of a shelled reptile falling one-hundred feet to the ground below. Poor thing, what a way to g-

There came the familiar _thump_ of a Quaffle being caught. Sirius opened one eye. The ball was safely in Turtle's hands, while the girl in question was safely floating near where he last saw her. He let out a sigh of relief. She gripped the ball, sitting on her broom, motionless. Even from this distance, he could tell her knuckles were white. Poor, sweet Turtle; she probably didn't even know what to do with it.

With a yell, she hurled the Quaffle past Brandish's outstretched hands and into the tallest hoop. A good forty yards away.

"Feel better?" Brandish called to her. Turtle was laughing. "Look. Your dog is shocked."

When Turtle turned around to face him, Sirius realized that his mouth had been open wide. He clamped it shut. Turtle was still laughing, loudly, glowing; he almost didn't even recognize her. Sirius had to wonder if Susan realized what happened to her face when she smiled. Wait, what? He shook himself clear of the thought (James must have slipped him something in his drink at breakfast) and looked back up. There. The same old Turtle, if only significantly better at Quidditch than he had previously supposed.

The next hour or so passed in much the same manner: Roberta trying and sometimes succeeding in blocking Turtle's very surprising throws. Someone with that kind of talent, Sirius decided, would definitely need to be drafted onto the team next year. They couldn't go another season with only James bolstering the general failure of the Gryffindor Chasers. As a beater himself, Sirius could only do so much. He was in the middle of devising a plan to coerce Turtle into coming to trials while making as little actual contact as possible when the girl in question and the Slytherin came to hover over his spot on the bench. "Dodger," Turtle called to him, "We're done for the day!" The two then swooped down to the ground to wait for him to make his way down the spiraling stairs under the stands. When he arrived, Turtle immediately caught him. "Oh, who's such a good boy? You are! The handsomest puppy in the whole wide world, yes he is, oh, my fluffy scruffy fluffy dog!"

He couldn't help it. He had to give in. She gave absolutely _divine _belly scratches. As humiliating as it would be if anyone saw him, he rolled over onto his back to be petted and fawned over and cooed at. Merlin, if James ever got wind of this, he would never live it down.

The rest of the day passed in relative monotony. James spent the afternoon devising foolproof ways to win the affection of one Lily Evans, Remus rewrote some of his notes for the sake of neatness, Sirius listened to the radio and did absolutely nothing productive, and Peter was Peter. By the time dinner rolled around, Sirius was almost looking forward to the prospect of finishing the project, just to give him something to do. With James occupied and the other two being nerds, there was no hope for any decent marauding on that particular Sunday.

He strolled into the library, ignoring the librarian's glare, with a stomach full of shepherd's pie and a head empty of Herbology. Remus, Greta, and Turtle were all already setting up a table when he arrived. "Fancy meeting you here!" he told them.

Remus rolled his eyes, as did Susan. Greta peered at him from underneath long, blonde eyelashes. Brilliant.

"Right, well," said Moony, "Greta and I already know what ours is, so we don't have a lot to do. How are you two coming along?"

Sirius shrugged. It was Turtle who responded. "Kneazlebane." This seemed to have been directed at the tabletop rather than any person in the group. "It's… it's the only one that… er, could grow in a week. That we looked at."

"Yes, of course," Sirius said loudly, not fooling either Remus or Turtle but clearly dear Greta thought him awfully intelligent.

"We'll have to _test _that theory," Turtle said, with just enough force to break the developing connection between him and Greta. Bother. "Which should be pretty easy, since it should sprout as soon as we expose it to soil containing the remains of a dead fungus, which I've begun to prepare."

Remus looked a little pleased with himself, having made Turtle this comfortable so far. Despite the tiny volume, that had been a surprisingly coherent statement, in Sirius's opinion.

While Greta scratched away at the write up for hers and Remus's project (no matter how madly neat he was, it did not change the fact that his handwriting was simply _atrocious_), Turtle began to work the dead mushrooms into the soil that she'd brought, careful to not spill too much of the dirt onto the table. Sirius turned the seed in his hand. Curious that such a small, silly-looking thing could cause the girl so much stress. Green with speckles. Gently, he laid it back on the table and began to clean up after Turtle's messy soil-kneading.

After a few more minutes, Turtle deemed the soil properly mixed, gesturing at Sirius as if she thought he knew what she wanted. "Well?" she asked.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to water it or just stand there like a girl afraid to get her hands dirty?"

Oh, that stung. She knew it, too. Sirius could see it written on her face how calculated that phrase had been, designed to instill in him the impetus to work, if only to prove his own masculinity. Well, it had totally worked. Sirius flicked his wand at it, lips sealed. Water shot from the tip into the small pot, not spilling a drop.

Turtle only raised an eyebrow, but Sirius knew that under that impassive shell hid an extremely impressed little Turtle. Who wouldn't be, after such a nonchalant display of magical prowess? He'd never struggled with nonverbal magic and wasn't afraid to show it. Quite the opposite, actually. Greta demurely hid her own awe behind a slight curve of the lips and a batting of the eyelashes.

"Well, Padfoot, if you're done showing off, Greta and I have finished. Do you need any help?" Remus asked. "Because otherwise I'm going to leave."

Sirius waved him off. "Of course not. I have this covered." He noted Turtle's indignant scoff. It was hidden behind her hair, but it had happened. Who knew Turtle had such an _attitude_?

"Then I'm off," said Remus, collecting his books.

Greta also began to pick up her things, stacking the books from the library on the table. "Good luck," she said with a sweet flick of the hair. She followed Remus out of the library.

"Alright. It should be ready to plant," Turtle said, her voice finally rising above a whisper.

"_QUIET!_" screeched Madame Pince from behind the nearest stacks. Turtle recovered from her near fall from her chair, shrinking to be as small as possible. Sirius only chuckled.

Turtle carefully dug two fingers into the soil before laying the seed to rest. She stepped back to wait.

They stared at the pot, both wondering why nothing was happening. Minutes ticked by, but still nothing appeared out of the dark soil. Sirius reached to poke at it, but Turtle slapped his hand away. "Be _patient_," she whispered, though it was plain to see that she struggled with her own advice. Sirius slumped onto the table, face down, fingers drumming on the table. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

"That's it," Turtle snapped, jumping out of her seat. "This is ridiculous." She snatched the pot of the table and began digging through it with long fingers.

"That's right, Turtle, show it how you really feel," Sirius said, smirking.

"Oh, you shut it. Like you've done much of anything on this project." Color had risen on her cheeks into a charming flush. No, he corrected himself. There was absolutely nothing charming about the pinkness now framing her very large, dark eyes. "This can't be happening… this can't be happening…" she repeated to herself, turning the seed over and over in her hands. She set it on the table, nearly slamming it down before catching herself and putting it down gently. It would do no good to ruin the seed now. "I'm going to fail. I'm actually going to fail. I _hate _Herbology, do you know that?"

Sirius thought to himself that yes, he did. She'd told him so herself, unawares.

"I absolutely _loathe _it to the very _core _of my being. And now it's going to ruin everything. It's going to drag all of my grades down into a fiery pit of misfortune because that's just how things go for me, isn't it? And then I'm going to begin the long downward spiral of delinquency that will surpass even _yours _and then I'm going to do something horrible like setting fire to the greenhouses and then I'll have to be a fugitive but then I'll trip or something and they'll catch me and then I'm going to go to Azkaban and then I'm going to _die_."

"Turtle?"

"_What?"_

Sirius put one hand on her shoulder, ignoring her flinch. Before he could help it, he began to laugh. "You…"

"It's not funny!" she exclaimed.

He laughed even harder, shaking her a little. "Listen to yourself." When she didn't respond, he removed his hand from her shoulder. "Really. This isn't that big of a deal. Watch." Despite her tiny squeal of dismay, he flicked the seed right off the table to land on the floor with a small _thunk_.

It bloomed.

Turtle gasped, dropping to her knees. Sirius slid over the table to land in front of her, on the other side of the flower. She gingerly stroked one of the large, pink petals, as glossy as the seed they'd sprouted from. Flecks of red and white dotted each petal, the stamens curling and vaguely glittery.

"A puffapod," she breathed.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"A puffapod! It's a puffapod!" And then she did it again. That smiling thing. "I'm not going to fail! We don't have to plant it or anything! This is so _easy_!"

Sirius had almost completely forgotten the flower by this point. Susan was holding the blossom up to her glowing face, smiling like she'd been that afternoon on the Quidditch pitch. "I… er, I'll do the write up, if you want," he said.

"Really? That would be lovely, if you decide to actually do it." She didn't even look up at him, engrossed as she was by the bloom.

"Of course I will. I mean, Sprout will suspect something if the whole thing's in your handwriting, anyway."

"Alright then," Susan said, standing. Still balancing the flower in her palm, she used the other hand to put her books and quill into her bag, leaving her notes for Sirius to use. Sirius scrambled to keep up as she turned to leave. They walked down the hallway side by side.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "So, er… You don't think…"

"Hm?" She turned her gaze from the floor to him. To his actual eyes.

"You don't still think I'm… you know," he leaned a little closer to whisper: "_feminine._"

She grinned. "Frankly, I hadn't even thought about it, so technically, no." She was still smiling that gorgeous smile and her eyes were like what in _Merlin's name _had Prongs put in his drink?

He mentally shook himself, dispelling all hallucinations. "But if you were to think on it?"

Turtle looked him up and down for a moment, then two. "On a scale from completely in drag to lumberjack wrestling a bear, I'd say you're at about a six-point-two. So I guess that puts you out of the feminine region, if that's what you're asking." As if realizing the openness with which she'd been speaking, she suddenly recoiled, her eyes darting back to the floor. "Er, night," she mumbled, hugging her books to her chest and escaped to a moving staircase to finish the walk to Gryffindor tower alone. Sirius watched her go, a little tired and utterly confused.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, I thought I'd just let everyone know why my updating is so sporadic. Feel free to skip this if you don't care, because not many do However, for those of you who DO care, I apologize. My style of writing includes having a general plot laid out and then writing scenes as they come to me, usually completely out of order. For example, I've had the ending planned since most of everything you've read. And you're going to hate me for it. I apologize in advance. **

**This also allows me to do this: SNEAK PEEK! For whoever leaves the best review, I will PM a little scene from some upcoming chapter. The reviewer will be able to determine the nature of this little peek from a number of choices. And yes, this is shameless review-begging. **

By Tuesday afternoon, Monday's good mood had yet to wear off. Monday's Herbology lesson had seen Susan receive one of the best grades she'd ever gotten in the class. As it turned out, Black was perfectly capable of doing excellent work when the mood struck him. At the end of Tuesday's Transfiguration lesson, Susan was sure that her mood could only improve. Her next class would be Care of Magical Creatures, and after that, she'd heard that her favorite stew was going to be served for dinner.

For years, Susan had been a fervent believer in Murphy's Law: If It can go wrong, it shall go wrong. This belief had become a sort of psychological shield; she expected the worst, so that when it happened, it wasn't quite so horrible (being able to say "I told you so" does wonders for one's mood) and when it didn't, it came as a pleasant surprise. There were very few instances in Susan's life where she forgot about Murphy's Law.

Ironically, things began to go wrong because nothing went wrong. Rienne and Gretchen stayed away, traffic wasn't as bad as usual in the common bottlenecks, Susan didn't fall and break something on the way to classes, etc. She was lulled into a sense of wellbeing. It was this sense that caused her carefree mood. And her carefree mood caused her to lollygag.

A brief bit of background on the personality of one Professor Silvanus Kettleburn: More than any other teacher currently presiding over Hogwarts classes, Kettleburn loved punctuality. He lived by it. He _breathed _by it. It was rumored among the students that he never actually took his pocketwatch off, taking it to bed with him every night. In his mind, "early" was on time, "on time" was late, and "late" was Unforgivable. Instead of the usual detention, he was known to charm clocks to follow tardy students around for days, always floating, ticking, just past the unfortunate soul's left ear. Susan, unwittingly, was quickly falling into the same lot.

She arrived only four measly minutes late, excusable by the standards of a few, laxer teachers. Kettleburn, however, was more likely to start class four minutes early than four minutes late. Class had very thoroughly started without her. Hoping to escape notice, she crept towards the back of the group.

"Susan Ponds." Kettleburn's voice was not loud, but it did have a traveling quality to it that made sure that he was absolutely heard. By everyone. Susan cringed. "You will explain yourself after class," Kettleburn intoned. "For now, you may get a pair of the boots from the bin at the front. As for those of you who could be bothered to arrive on time today, follow me."

Susan stumbled into the knee-high rubber boots before catching up to the rest of the class. At only twelve students, the Care of Magical Creatures class had proved unpopular with students of Susan's year, just above Arithmancy, which could only claim eight. As she hiked further with the class into the Forbidden Forest, Susan saw a strange apparatus, newly built, in a clearing.

"Today, class," Kettleburn began, "we will be studying dugbogs. My young assistant here, Hagrid, constructed this for us, everyone turn to your right and say 'thank you, Mr. Hagrid.'"

The class sullenly turned to face the half-giant, who stood, embarrassed, at the edge of the clearing. "Thank you, Mr. Hagrid," they all muttered with uniform lack of enthusiasm.

"This is a perfectly contained micro-marsh," Kettleburn explained. "You will, in groups of three, climb in and set about identifying and capturing three dugbogs per group. If you've done your reading, this should be a veritable cakewalk. If not, Merlin help you. Now line up."

A few of the less studious students exchanged nervous glances at the warning. Most had done the reading, but all knew of the painful bites dugbogs frequently inflicted on unwary hikers, even through thick boots. As Kettleburn sorted them into four groups of three, several students tried to charm their boots to be stronger, more sharp-teeth-resistant. Susan was more worried about the humiliating punishment she was sure to endure. She'd seen other victims of Kettleburn's wrath before, walking into class with clocks hovering over their shoulders, clocks with a tendency to ring in the middle of silent study halls and important tests.

Susan, along with Hannah Scattergood (a Hufflepuff with comedic wit that could elicit a smile from the most stubborn mopers, Susan included) and Delphinus Mackenzie (a less-entertaining but equally goodhearted Hufflepuff), descended into the makeshift marsh. Trudging through mud, grass, and sludge, and three cautiously approached each piece of driftwood. If the log proved only a log, they could temporarily relax. If not, well, that was where the reading came in. While Delphinus levitated each dugbog from the murky water, Hannah held out the assigned cage and Susan bound its mouth and legs (gently), enclosing it in the box. This process repeated twice more, the three waded to the edge of the marsh, hopping over the wooden border and landing once more on solid ground. Each group, finished, then had the remainder of the period to do as they pleased, provided it was within Professor Kettleburn's sight and did not involve rule-breaking.

"Ponds," Kettleburn said, summoning her away from the others.

Susan's boots squelched and squeaked as she approached. "Y-yes, Professor?" she stuttered.

"Detention, six-thirty, _sharp_. Hagrid's hut." He glowered, stern, before breaking into a smile. "This is actually a rare moment that I'm glad for lateness. I was going to ask you to do this, anyway, and now, you can't say no and I don't have to give you extra credit!" he chirped, clearly very pleased.

Sirius padded along the edge of the grounds, evening quickly approaching. Turtle's detention was with Hagrid, if he remembered correctly. He'd overheard her talking about it with that Slytherin, the stony one who was much too tall and imperious for his liking. Slytherins shouldn't possess such authority and confidence when they talked. They were all weasels.

Despite his attempts to justify the outing to both himself and Remus, who'd caught him sneaking out of the dormitory, Sirius wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to visit Turtle. Sure, she was a right chatterbox when she thought no one was listening, with weird and amusing things to say. Sure, she knew just where that place was behind his ears where he liked most to be scratched. But Sirius had _friends._ He had a _girlfriend_ (in fact, Helen was none too pleased with his ever-more frequent disappearances after dinner). In short, he had a _life._ There was no reason to be following Turtle around on these little excursions that constituted the sad, pathetic scrap of a thing she considered her social life.

He thought back to what he'd overheard Turtle and the Snake discussing at dinner. Kettleburn, despite his attempt to look angry, had been delighted to have the avid creature-lover available for the evening, sending her off with Hagrid to deal with some creature the third-years had riled up. And even with Turtle otherwise occupied, watching her and Hagrid fend off angry flobberworms or whatever creature was almost guaranteed to be entertaining.

In dog form, Sirius smelled the unicorn before he saw it. With that, he also smelled what had upset it. Firecrackers did have a rather distinctive aroma.

"One o' them boys musta' left it here!" Hagrid was shouting, frantically trying to contain the beast. It kicked desperately, terrified still by the colored smoke left behind. Turtle was stamping on a small, purple fire in the corner of the enclosure. Sirius slowly came closer, unsure if the unicorn would accept him- technically being a human male, sometimes. Hagrid had his arms out, trying to calm the creature. It beat its hooves, silver and gleaming despite a thin layer of dirt, snorting. It did not, however, charge. "Alrigh', Su, if you don' mind," Hagrid said.

Checking to be sure the fire was thoroughly extinguished, Susan slowly stepped towards the unicorn. One hand outstretched, she approached, kneeling a few feet away. Sirius inched closer. Susan's robes pooled about her bent legs, melding into the shadows and giving her the appearance of rising from the very ground. Her hand still held towards the unicorn, she began to sing.

Sirius stopped dead. It was some strange language, perhaps Gaelic, that he didn't understand, that seemed to have been born of the woods themselves. Her voice floated in the air like moonlight on dust, like dye in water. It curled around the branches of trees and embraced all that it touched, enveloping everything with the purity of its sound, ringing like silver. The unicorn became still, its eyes no longer rolling, its mouth closed. Sirius couldn't move. Both beasts were tamed. The song was sad, a tragedy to bring tears and open wounds, but sweet- a lullaby unlike anything Sirius had ever heard. This was a different kind of magic, that living in Susan. It was wild, not belonging in stone walls and tile floors. The very forest stopped to listen.

As suddenly has it had began, it was over. Susan stood, brushing the dirt from her knees with one hand, the other resting on the unicorn's forehead. It nuzzled her side before retreating to the lean-to on the other side of the enclosure.

**I know! It's really short, less than half my usual. But as I kept stringing together the next part, it was turning into an obscenely long chapter, and I'd rather just get this up now. It's been in revision for two months, now. It deserves to be posted Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah, I know. I don't usually put these. Upside: I've broken two-**_**thousand**_** hits! That's CRAZY. On the downside, I only have nineteen reviews. That's less than a one-percent review rate, guys. Come on. Please?**

**Thanks to Trelaney and Nyxaurora for their great reviews! And congratulations to xOxO Lost Angel OxOx for winning the review contest thing! You rock. And now on to the story…**

The rest of the month of April whizzed by, unpunctuated by detentions, projects, or unicorns. Susan's life returned entirely to the normal, hum-drum, slightly improved (courtesy of one Roberta Brandish) slosh of days it had been before. May, however, saw a smack of an event Susan never saw coming.

"Hey, Susan."

Susan looked up from her dessert. Richard Ballymore leaned on the table across from her, she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So I was wondering… Hogsmeade's this weekend and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me. As my date. I mean, if you don't…"

Susan had taken up until this point to get over her own absolute shock. "N-No! I mean, I'd love to! I just…"

"Just what?" he asked. "You don't already have a date, do you?"

"Of course not!" Did she have a date? No, not unless one counted the appointment with the hospital wing she was going to need for her impeding heart-attack. "I… I've never been asked on a date before…" Susan's voice faded away in embarrassment.

"Really? That's so… I mean, but you're so…"

"What?"

"I, er… nothing." Was he _blushing_? Surely not. Richard Ballymore didn't get flustered around girls. Ever. "Anyway… meet me by the clock tower, at ten, okay? I mean, is that alright with you?"

"No, that's perfect! I- I'll see you there."

Richard grinned and walked back to the Ravenclaw table. Susan couldn't believe it. _Richard Ballymore _had just asked _her _out! Was it even possible that he could like her? Until mere minutes ago, Susan hadn't even thought that he knew she existed. He was completely out of her league. But now… Her mile-a-second thoughts whirled to a dazed close; she couldn't help but smile stupidly at her apple bread pudding. She could hardly stomach it at this point, even though it was her favorite.

The whole rest of the week went by in a happy blur, highlighted by the occasional classes with Richard. He would greet her in the hallways, sit near (but never _next to_) her in classes (they weren't dating yet, after all). She couldn't wait. Maybe… maybe it was too much to hope for, but maybe, just maybe… she might get her first kiss. At seventeen, Susan felt she'd waited long enough. She tried, to no avail, to avoid giddiness. Instead she became a chocolate-covered-fluffball filled with pure, unadulterated, girlish squealing. This was all on the inside, of course. She may not be able to retain her sanity, but Merlin-be-darned if she wasn't going to maintain her dignity.

Saturday morning dawned brightly, the sun shining and the weather perfect for the perfect day. Susan was more excited than she had been about anything in years, though she mentally chastised herself for getting all worked up over some _boy… _even _if _said boy was Richard Ballymore. She had to actually stop herself from skipping or running down the ever-changing staircases. The clock tower was crowded, as it usually was on a Hogsmeade Saturday before everyone left. Susan was too distracted by her own anticipation to notice the number of glances being shot her way, stray giggles from various students being drowned out by the general chatter. Susan arrived at the base of the clock tower and waited. It wasn't long before she saw Richard bounding up to her. She smiled, hoping she didn't look ridiculous, or worse, ugly. But what did she have to worry about? _He _had asked _her, _after all!

She only had time to briefly wonder what he was doing when he abruptly stopped about ten feet away, put his little fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. The next thing Susan was aware of was a horrible slimy something being poured all over her from the level above. And then the overwhelming laughter, all around her. She was covered in stinking, murky goo that, she was sure, was not going to come out of her robes without a fight. And everyone was laughing at her, pointing, jeering. She looked up at Richard. He stood where he had stopped, hands on his hips and laughing with the rest of them. "W-wh-wh…" she whimpered.

"Why? Why what?" he sneered. "Did you honestly think I was serious? Come on! That's pathetic!"

"But…"

"You actually thought I would ask you out, Turtle? You're the ugliest girl in the school! No, that I've ever seen!" Richard turned to his audience. "Am I right?"

Not wanting to hear their answer, Susan ran out of the castle as fast as she could, being bumped and shoved the whole way out. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her nook in the rocks and cry. Now that she thought about it, dying wouldn't be a bad option either. _Where's my Gryffindor courage now?_ She thought to herself. _Running away. A real Gryffindor would have fought back, but not me, not the little turtle… _She collapsed into the crevice, her head on her knees.

A gentle snuffling interrupted her tears. It was Dodger. He licked some of the slime off her face and gagged, but continued at it anyway. However, Susan wasn't in the mood to be comforted. "No, no, no, no, ugh! Go away, you stupid fleabag! I hate you! I hate _me_! I'm seventeen years old and this," she gestured at her soiled self, "has been my first and only date. You, a _dog, _are my best friend. My only other friends are a bloody giant who's on the bloody _staff_ and a _Slytherin_! I'm pathetic and you're not helping!" She stood up awkwardly and strode off in what would have been a gloriously dramatic exit had she not tripped on a small rock and fallen flat on her face. With that, she unleashed a string of expletives that would have made the hardiest of sailors blush, the extent of which shall be abbreviated thusly: "!" Dodger gingerly tried to nudge her arm, but she swatted him away. "_Just go away_!" she shouted as she picked herself up and headed off to the hospital wing.

Susan arrived at the hospital wing with blood dribbling down her face and onto her already ruined robes. It was excruciatingly painful, but she was kind of beyond caring at this point. Madame Pomfrey, the young nurse, jumped at the sight of her. _Do I really look that bad?_ Susan wondered. _You'd think she'd never seen a nosebleed before. _

"My dear! Whatever happened to you?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"I may have taken a lawn to the face. Can you fix it now?"

"A-A lawn? Ah, yes, sit down…" The nurse whipped out her wand and flicked it at Susan's face. With a loud _crack, _her nose snapped back into place. She hadn't even realized that it was broken, let alone that badly. Figured. "Just a moment…" said Madame Pomfrey, flicking her wand. A washbasin and towel drifted into the room and hovered by the bed where Susan now sat. Madame Pomfrey busied herself wiping away the blood and grime from Susan's face. The touch was a little rough, but within minutes Susan was sufficiently clean. Well, her face was, anyway. "I think your clothes will have to be replaced," the nurse said, upon realizing that no spell she knew was going to remove the stains. "I'm not sure what to do about your hair, though. We'll wor-"

The Hospital Wing door swung open, revealing two Ravenclaws dragging some poor, beaten up soul behind them. Why did the worst fights always seem to happen on Hogsmeade weekends? One would think that everyone would be content to just enjoy the freedom. "I'll just be on my way, then," Susan said, not wanting to be seen by anyone else that day, particularly people from Richard's house. Avoiding the eyes of the other students, she slipped out of the room and snuck back up to her dormitory. The halls, thankfully, were nearly empty, seeing as all the students above third year were at Hogsmeade and everyone else was outside enjoying the sunshine.

Later that night, just as Susan was falling asleep, an object landed with a _whump_ on the edge of Susan's bed. The object in question being Marlene McKinnon's famous arse (there had rarely been a week since fifth year that Susan hadn't inadvertently heard some boy praising it). "You," Marlene said, "have some explaining to do."

"Oh, come off it, Mar, she obviously doesn't want to talk about it," scolded Alice.

"Forgive me if I want answers. So, Turtle, tell me. How is it exactly that you know Sirius Black?"

"I don't," Susan mumbled, yanking her blankets over her head.

"Don't you? Then what exactly happened today?" Marlene pressed on.

"She wasn't even there, how is she supposed to tell you?" Alice said. "Leave her alone."

"You don't _know_?" Marlene sounded incredulous. Susan inwardly rolled her eyes while shaking her head no. "Sweetheart, Sirius Black thoroughly mauled Dickie Ballymore this morning, after you ran off. I mean, he _pounded _on him. I mean, no offense or anything, but I don't understand why."

Susan was too drained for the news to surprise her. "I- I don't know either. I don't know him at all. He's never even really spoken to me. No more than anyone else has, really."

"Hmm…" Marlene turned. "Lily ! You know the Marauders, right?"

"I don't think 'know' is quite the word for it, but sure," Lily replied. Her general disdain for the quartet, James Potter in particular, was well-known, despite James' equally well-known pining for her.

"So do you know why Sirius stuck up for Turtle today?"

"He stuck up for _Susan_, I believe, because he's a Gryffindor and that's what he does for people. Ballymore was being pointlessly cruel and, no matter how idiotic and arrogant the Marauders are, they won't stand for that. Unless they're the ones doing it, and the victim is a Slytherin. In which case cruelty is perfectly okay."

"Honestly Lils, you really do take every opportunity to complain about them, don't you?" Marlene remarked. "But I do suppose that must be it. I was just curious. I mean, Black sent the boy to the Hospital Wing."

"That was _him_?" Susan squeaked. The Ravenclaw in the Hospital Wing had been Ballymore?

"Yes… What were you doing in the Hospital Wing?" Marlene asked.

"I had to get my nose fixed."

"Wait, they broke your nose?" Alice exclaimed. "I heard that they only dumped slime on you and made you grow daisies out of your ears and set off firecrackers! They should be expelled! That's physical ab-"

"No, _I _broke my nose. I fell when I was running away." Susan, tired of being interrogated on subjects about which she was completely ignorant, flicked her wand, snapping her bed curtains shut, hitting Marlene in the face in the process. The girl's surprised "Waah!" made Susan smile despite herself.

The next morning arrived early, but not particularly bright. The rainy weather suited Susan's mood perfectly as she dressed herself. This was a welcome change, seeing as the weather tended to be spitefully sunny every time Susan was feeling down. Today, for once, the world seemed obliging.

It was an awkward transition, the way it took such an unfortunate mishap for Sirius to realize his liking for Susan "Turtle" Ponds. Even after listening to her prattle while she petted him, listening to her wit and imagination, witnessing her secret Quidditch talent, hearing her sing, Sirius had denied his growing liking of her. It was simply too strange: For years, Susan had been the odd little hermit that always sat at the back of the class, too shy to even be a teachers' pet, despite Slughorn's countless attempts. She had, for as long as he'd been aware of her existence, hardly existed at all. In the two months or so that he'd discovered, gradually, the truth of Susan Ponds, he'd found that the neat compartment she'd fit into on his train of thought wasn't really so well-fitted, after all. And all things considered, it was a startling discovery, not one he particularly wanted to make. Because it would mean that he, along with James, Peter, and most of the students of their year, had teased or –at best –ignored one of the most charming people he'd ever known. He didn't like it.

Therefore, it wasn't until Susan was threatened that Sirius really realized what had changed. The teasing that he would usually stand for, even join in, was suddenly, absolutely, intolerable. Granted, this particular episode was harsher than most, but regardless, it wasn't entirely out of the Marauders' range. Well, James' and Sirius' range, at least. They'd done similar things to Snivellus countless times, and not lost a wink of sleep. But this was different. This was aimed at, he realized, a _friend_. The fact that she didn't know it yet was irrelevant.

And so he took action. He wouldn't later recall much of the beating of Dickie Ballymore, only the blinding rage, the red haze. What he would remember would be Susan's despairing tears, the face of the Stone Snake, her supposed friend, as she watched, pitying but not straying from the sides of her housemates as Susan ran from the clock tower. Thankfully, Susan hadn't noticed that detail as she'd fled. Sirius, however, _had_ noticed, and was sure to glare at the serpent as he ran from the scene. He would deal with her later. At the moment, he needed to head for the woods.

Once transformed into the dog, Sirius sprinted back across the grounds, careful not to be seen by wandering eyes of wandering students. Among the craggy hills near the lake, he found her, snot-nosed and trembling. It was pathetic, and it made him furious that someone would reduce her to this. He came closer, tried to lick some of the slime away, but it tasted like goblin piss. He eventually gave up, rather than retching all over her already very soiled robes. It must have been a strange potion, something invented by one of the buggers in on the plot, because Sirius –with all his pranking expertise –was unable to identify it. Whatever it was, it was unfathomably disgusting, and it was showing no signs of coming off anytime soon.

It was this well-deserved kindness that finally set Turtle off. And it was explosive. Her rage burst with all the spectacle and fury of the bombing of Dresden, with considerably more curses than Merlin's Final Battle with Morgan le Fay. All in all, it was kind of impressive. When she finally dragged herself up (for the second time), Sirius had every intention of following her. However, he caught sight of a glint of glasses and a mop of bad hair and knew he had some explaining to do.

"You have some explaining to do," James said as Sirius trotted over, shifting seamlessly back into his human form.

"Don't I know it," Sirius muttered, sticking out his tongue, still unable to rid himself of that awful taste. It was a cross between bogies, vomit, and putrid eggplant, brilliantly formulated and flawlessly executed. He would have to steal the recipe.

"I don't even know what just happened, Pads. You nearly _killed a man_ today."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Did not."

"Well ex_cuse _my penchant for exaggeration, but that's really not the point. As well-deserved as it may have been, your sudden pummeling of Ballymore wasn't like you! Where was the finesse, the style, the _reason_?" James gestured wildly, arms swinging. "Have you lost your ever-loving _mind_?"

"I couldn't let him… He shouldn't…" Sirius trailed off. "James, did you see her _face_?"

James sighed. "Yes. And I felt bad. And I would have been very willing to tell him off, or arrange an elaborate plot of vengeance. Both reasonable reactions. But beating him black and blue until he matches his own robe is a mite excessive. An excess reserved for drastic occasions."

"Such as the threatening of a friend?" Sirius asked quietly. He saw James' raised eyebrow. "I know it's strange, but I like her a bit. Enough. And people already treat her so badly."

"Since when did _you _become such an expert?" James asked, expectantly. "Last I checked, we were ignoring her as much as anyone else. Bloody hell. That actually sounds so much worse when it's said out loud."

"I've just seen her… when I was working on that Herbology project." For some reason, he didn't tell James about Dodger. He inexplicably wanted Susan to be his Secret. Though, at this point, not really having a reason for something was looking like a regular thing for Sirius.

Despite what Sirius thought, Susan _had_ noticed Roberta in the clock tower courtyard. At the time, Susan's tear-soaked brain hadn't had enough room to comprehend that last bit of awful. It was already overloaded with all the awful, horrible, and downright nasty it could take for one day. But Sunday was a new day, and by morning, Susan's brain suddenly found itself perfectly able to process the betrayal of Susan's only peer friend. She thought back to that moment, painfully. Roberta had been standing with a few other Slytherin girls, a group of six or seven. They were all the darlings of ancient-money, pureblood families, the kind with family tree tapestries and signet rings and familial crests that usually involved snakes. And though Roberta hadn't snickered along with them, she hadn't come to Susan's aid, either. She might have even (Susan may have seen this, or it could have been a mistake, as she hoped) put on a fake smile for her friends. Because those girls were clearly her friends. And not Susan.

It was this line of thought and others like it that soured the morning so dreadfully for Susan. Things only got worse (exponentially so) when Mary MacDonald came to find her after breakfast. Having skipped the sure emotional devastation that the morning meal would have brought, Susan was lying in her bed, curtains drawn tightly.

"Hey, Turtle?" Mary asked. She had no idea how much Susan hated that nickname. "Turtle? Susan? I know you're in there. And you know I'd normally leave you be, but there's this dreary girl sitting outside the portrait hole, bothering everyone until you come down and speak with her. She's rather insistent."

Susan rolled over, stating her refusal with a moan.

"Oh, come now. The faster you get this over with, the faster this is all over with."

_And everyone knows how persuasive circular logic is,_ Susan thought. But before she was able to further solidify her argument against going, her melancholy left, quitting sans notice, leaving a void that lasted all of two seconds before it was filled to brimming with fury. How _dare _she try to talk, after what she'd done, or rather, not done? On what grounds did she think she could just waltz up and continue their sham of a friendship? Susan flung the curtains back, startling Mary, who took a moment to collect herself before calling "That's right! Tell her off!" at Susan's back, now retreating down the stairs.

Susan found Roberta exactly where Mary said she would, lolling against the wall next to the Fat Lady, as if she had a right to be there. Upon seeing Susan, she jumped up, suddenly all apologies.

"Susie Q," she began. She didn't get any farther.

"How _dare_ you."

"Sus-"

"_How. Dare. You._ How _dare _you come up and bother my housemates, bother me!" Susan shouted. Her shyness was gone, at least temporarily. It had been consumed, along with every other part of her, by her anger.

"I'm sorry!" Roberta managed.

"You absolute _snake_. And I called you my friend. My _friend_. What did you think you'd get out of it? Help with your awful potions? An invite to the Slug's parties, in my place, because _everyone _knows that I will _never_ go. Is that it? Or was it just _another _sick joke? You think it's funny?"

"No! Susan, I'm _sorry_, it just that-"

"What? You didn't want to be seen with me in front of everyone? You didn't want to be seen with the slimy turtle as she ran away crying? Would that have been bad for your reputation, Roberta? Would you have lost face in front of all your high-brow Slytherin friends? Because that's how you Slytherins are, aren't you? Always looking out for number one. And you're just like the rest of them."

"_YES!_" Roberta screamed, fists clenched, neat hair falling into her face. "_That's it! Are you happy?"_ She took a step back, shoulders curling. "I'm not _like _you Gryffindors, or the others! _Yes_, I put my reputation before our friendship _in one moment of weakness _and I'm _sorry_!"

"_YOU SHOULD BE!_" Susan cried, her despair making its reappearance. Tears stabbed once more at her eyes.

"Can't you just _forgive _me?" Roberta asked, stuck still. Her back was straight, but her hands curled and uncurled.

There was a part of Susan that wanted to forgive her. A part that did, in fact, forgive her. But at that moment, Susan just couldn't find it. She murmured the password at the Fat Lady, who'd been so engrossed in the exchange that she nearly forgot to open the passageway. She had one foot in the Common Room when Roberta delivered her closing note:

"And here I'd been thinking that you were the _better_ one. But you're no better than any of the rest!"

The incident, Susan realized later, should have been expected. Nothing that burned so brightly, shone so brilliantly, could last very long on the stage of her social life. There had never been any grounds for their friendship in the first place. Roberta was the opposite of Susan: self-assured, outgoing, aristocratically beautiful, and a veritable social butterfly. In fact, Roberta had more in common with Richard Ballymore than she'd ever had with Susan. They were both obviously gifted actors. Richard effectively convinced Susan that he actually wanted to date her, while Roberta put on a magnificent performance as someone who genuinely cared. Really, they both deserved awards. Outstanding jobs, the lot of them. They even had the same _initials, _Susan realized. Sitting, once more, on her bed, Susan wasn't sure whether the viscous feeling bubbling up her throat was anger or depression, mostly because she couldn't actually feel either emotion. She felt it more physically, as drained as she was. And it was terrible.

Avoiding the pitying eyes of her dorm-mates, Susan walked slowly, unnoticed, to the grounds. Evening had fallen, and the grey sky tumbled down a gradient to the deep blue of night. Susan passed the Marauders on the way out, Remus offering an unsure smile, James a few nonsense words of encouragement. Peter gawked in a way that made her want to hit him, while Black abruptly turned on his heel and walked off the other way. He probably wanted to avoid her, Susan reasoned, make sure that she didn't assume that he'd fought Ballymore out of any sense of caring for her emotional wellbeing. Toe rag.

She promptly forgot the boys, however, as she stepped out into the night air. The beginnings of May that year held onto a chill; the evenings still had the bite of winter about them, a final goodbye to frost. Susan sat at the edge of the lake, watching as the giant squid awakened across the water. Nature surrounded her, a blanket, security. Ever-changing and yet somehow immutable, it was her rock. No matter the painful spirals her life took, the forest would stand. The lake would lap at its shores. And, apparently, the dog would always come to find her.

"Dodger!" she whispered. "What a good boy." She began to pet him, apologetically, scratching his favorite spot behind his ears. He sat next to her, gazing out over the lake as she did. They were both content.


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh. My. Gosh.**

**I am so sorry. I could make excuses for this but I don't really have one. My writing just has NOT been up to par lately. Ugh. It's a bit longer than usual, though, so… Well, yeah.**

Another month passed, Susan's life settling into its new normal. Roberta had found a new Potions partner, leaving Susan to the old table, alone. Honestly, it was a change for the better. Without the other girl there, Susan finished the assignments more quickly, almost without distraction. Severus Snape was none too happy about her recent improvement, as it put them solidly on the same level of brewing talent, but he didn't try to trip her again. Rienne and Gretchen, unfortunately, saw the ruination of Susan and Roberta's friendship as prime material, using the incident like a bat to beat Susan about the head with. Eventually, though, even they left off, tired of their own lazy joke.

As the term neared its close, Susan realized that things really weren't all bad. She may have lost Roberta, but she still had Hagrid and Dodger. Hagrid had even tried his hand at baking, hoping to cheer her up. The cakes were terrible, as hard as rocks, but the icing was good, and Dodger had gotten so good at fetch that she'd bought a miniature Quaffle in Hogsmeade to throw for him. She also used it to train her throwing arm, knowing that with summer holiday came the off-season for professional Quidditch, if only for a month or so. With Thomas home, she'd never get to sleep past seven-thirty in the morning before he was dragging her outside to practice. Even though next year would be her last, he still held onto the hope that she would somehow follow in his footsteps and become the darling of her house Quidditch team.

Any free time that wasn't spent with Hagrid or Dodger or daydreaming was spent revising for the coming exams. Susan began to appreciate the architecture of the library more and more, the ancient alcoves perfect for being completely and utterly alone. It was a feeling that she'd grown so accustomed to in the past month that it was nearly welcome. Her recent forays into peer interaction had been disastrous, and despite that temporary feeling of happiness that having a friend had created, none of it was worth that horrible moment when it ended. Susan had never in her life felt more furious, more miserable, or more empty inside than she had when her friendship with Roberta had ended. Because for a few short months, she'd lived in a completely new world, as wonderful as the La-La Land she'd constructed in her head, and yet infinitely better if only for the fact that it was real. And when she'd felt the shock of the portrait-hole closing behind her, physically, she'd felt that world end. That world had ended in fire.

Luckily for Susan, her mental Queendom remained intact, bubbles and chocolate palaces and all. It was an escape that was always open, a hatch she could crawl through whenever she wanted. As for the real world, Hagrid's small hut provided a semblance of refuge. No other students ever visited, excepting the occasional detention, and those were easy enough to avoid. As it were, she found herself seated at his kitchen table more often than not on Saturday afternoons.

"I think I'm going to just withdraw from society altogether," Susan groaned, leaning back in the hard, wooden chair. The floorboards creaked under her shifting weight.

"Aw, don' do that, now," Hagrid chastised her. "Yeh've still got me, haven't yeh?"

"This is true…" Susan said. She sighed, taking another lick of icing from one of the cement-block-like cakes Hagrid had baked. "It's just that… I could. I could just take my exams, finish my NEWTs, and become a creature healer. And I'd have a secretary who'd deal with all the humans for me, so I'd only have to talk to the animals, all day long, for the rest of my life. And they would love me."

"Surely 's not that bad," Hagrid said. Meeting Susan's eyes, he amended: "Well, don't you think it might get better?"

"I figure that if I haven't changed by this point, I'm not going to."

"Tha's a mite pessimistic-"

"Mostly realistic."

Hagrid looked at her for a moment. The girl didn't seem to be hurting any more, exactly, but she wasn't the same girl she'd been. She'd always been quiet, of course, but there had always been a bit of a sparkle to her that was now lost. Her hope was gone, Hagrid decided. The little bit of hope for a better future that she'd hidden behind her shell had been snuffed out. There had to be something he could do, surely. He racked his brain, thinking, remembering. There was something important that he was forgetting. Something really, very important. Something furry?

With the lull in conversation, Susan looked out the small window over the table. Sunlight streamed through the glass, making sure everyone and everything knew that summer was near, in case the heat and exams weren't indication enough. Weekends seemed inordinately long, now that there was nothing to do but prepare for the upcoming tests. Susan didn't even like going to Quidditch matches anymore. "Hogsmeade weekends are nice, though," she said, suddenly. "No one else is around but first- and second-years. It's peaceful. Relatively."

"Oh! Oh! Hogsmeade! Tha' reminds me!" Hagrid jumped up and began frantically rummaging about the hut. "I need ter go ter Hogsmeade today! Hurry up, now!"

Confused at the outburst, Susan followed Hagrid out of the hut and down the path, towards the road to Hogsmeade. She had to jog just to keep up with his massive strides, and was soon out of breath. "Hagrid…" she panted. "Slow down! I can't… run…too fast… Ugh!"

"I can't wait ter show ye," Hagrid called back to her. "This'll cheer yeh right up."

Susan fought the urge to insist that she didn't need cheering up, as she'd had to with her dorm-mates for weeks. Their attempts at covert cheering charms were becoming irritating, though Susan sometimes wondered if she should just let them charm her, rather than dodging the little spells. She sometimes felt like she was wallowing. Then again, she _deserved_ to wallow, didn't she?

"Yer going ter be so surprised," Hagrid said.

The closer they got to Hogsmeade, the less Susan wanted to be there. Not only were all of her classmates there, milling around and enjoying life, but she was now winded and nearly drenched with sweat from trying to match Hagrid's pace. Once they reached High Street, she was about ready to collapse where she stood. She'd known that she was out of shape (had she ever really been _in_ shape?) but really, this was ridiculous. Hagrid, after taking a moment to look back and see if Susan had made it alive, ducked into the doorway of the local menagerie. "What do we need today, Hagrid? I thought you were just up here," said Susan.

"I told ye, it's a surprise!" Hagrid waved her off with a grin before turning to the shopkeeper. "Jeeves! Wonderful to see ye. I know I'm a little late…"

Susan stayed behind as the two men, one massive and hairy, the other short and bald, retreated to the back of the shop. She glanced over the shelves, as she'd done every time she'd come to Hogsmeade. There were a few Hufflepuff girls cooing at puffskeins, but otherwise the shop was empty. Small creatures skittered inside their cages and tanks, sniffing at the air, staring back at her. The air smelt of birdseed, fur, and maple syrup. It was her favorite place in the village.

At the sound of yipping, Susan spun around. Hagrid and the shopkeeper had returned. In Hagrid's arms squirmed, of all things, a puppy.

"_EEEEEeeeeeeeeohmygoodness_!" Susan squealed, running over to pet the tiny thing. A little boarhound, black, fuzzy, and loud. His squeaky barking filled the room, silenced only when he paused to lick Hagrid's and Susan's hands. "Look at that face!" Susan chirped. "Those jowls! Oh, he's so silly looking! Who's a good boy? Oh, it's this guy! Look at him, aw, he's teething!" The puppy had begun to gnaw on the hem of Hagrid's sleeve, dribbling drool all down the fabric. "Aw, he's so ferocious!"

"He is, ain't he?" Hagrid said, fairly glowing behind his short, bushy beard. "I think I'll call 'im Fang. He'll make a good guard dog, someday, mebbe."

"Wonderful name!" Susan said. She did love irony, even if Hagrid didn't seem to see it as such. He was already chatting away with the shopkeeper about training techniques, magical nutrition, and whether or not the drooling was a phase. Somehow, Susan didn't think it was.

It was completely unprecedented. Never before in all of history had anyone had such a blindingly idiotic reason for disliking, of all things, a puppy. Who dislikes a _puppy_? And out of _jealousy_? But, frankly, Sirius was more than jealous. He was _irritated_. Who did this little fuzzy upstart think he was, anyway? Getting all of Susan's attention, the vast majority of the treats, the scratches that used to be completely _his_. And why? For no reason other than that he was heart-wrenchingly adorable.

It was ridiculous.

Dodger lay on the ground, head on his paws, dejected. Susan still hadn't noticed him. Well, she'd greeted him of course, gave him a quick pat on the head, but she hadn't actually paid him much mind since. Fang (what kind of a name was Fang, anyway?) currently occupied the entirety of Susan's attention. The puppy was flopping around like a furry dolt, wiggling and yipping. The thing completely lacked any semblance of elegance, sophistication, delicacy, intelligence. And yet, Sirius had to make a conscious effort to prevent his Dodger body from trying to pet it. Then again, perhaps that was the trick! With this sudden burst of inspiration, Dodger padded over to where Susan sat, watching Fang play with a dandelion. (At this rate, Hagrid would have a killer on his hands in no time.) After a short pause to make sure Susan was watching, Dodger nuzzled the tiny, furry thing. Well, he tried to. The bloody thing wouldn't stop moving. Fang, in his enthusiasm, suddenly began jumping around Dodger's head, yipping and drooling all over everything. When Dodger lowered his head, Fang latched onto one of his ears, beginning to tug.

"Oh my goodness, how cute!" Susan squealed.

Bingo.

"Hagrid, Hagrid, come look at this! Fang and Dodger are playing together!"

Operation Win Back Turtle had gone flawlessly, considering the extremely short period of planning. However, allowing the puppy to nip at his dog's ears and neck had had unforeseen consequences for his human self. Sirius was about six and two-thirds seconds away from wiping that look off James's face entirely. That stupid, knowing smirk, when really, he didn't know anything at all. He kept jerking his head at Helen, Sirius's latest girlfriend, who sat further down the Gryffindor table, and winking- sort of. James had never been able to wink properly, and while the effect was normally amusing, today it was simply annoying. Did James really have nothing better to do than pester him?

"So, Pads, you two been having fun?" James purred. "Because if those bite marks on your ear say anything, I'd say-"

"Don't you have pancakes to eat?" Sirius snapped.

"I can chew and talk at the same time."

"Please, for Merlin's sake, do not demonstrate," Remus interrupted from across the table, ignoring Peter's slightly disappointed look. "And Sirius is right; it's not your business what escapades he and Helen get up to."

"Bloody hell, both of you. I told you already," Sirius said, putting his fork down. "I was running in the woods and my ears got caught on a bush."

"_Of course_ they did," James said, rolling his eyes.

Regardless of the fact that his story was a lie, it was definitely closer to the truth than whatever the others had thought up for themselves. "I don't have to defend myself to you," he said, with all the snobbish regality his parents had ingrained in him against his will.

"Perhaps not, but you might need help fending off dear, sweet, Helen, next time. Never would have thought she'd be one to…"

Five seconds until pounding. Four seconds. Three. Two. James's face was saved only by the arrival of the mail, which distracted Sirius just long enough to take the edge off of his temper. The Great Hall came alive with the sound of fluttering feathers and rustling papers, students opening letters and packages. A wail erupted from the Slytherin table, the beautiful face of Rienne Halloway cracking in two under the weight of the sob. Everything went silent as she ran from the room.

Despite the morning's drama, life went on. Classes were becoming nearly unbearable. Now that most of the professors had shifted away from teaching to review, Susan found herself more and more often completely bored. Since she had no passable social life, she'd spent most of her free time studying. At this point, she only pretended to take notes, instead doodling all up and down her left forearm. Her hand had been covered in ink long since. After finding a book of world runes in the library, her designs had taken on a distinctly Maori flair.

Susan sat near the back of her History of Magic class, inattentive to the revising around her. The sound of wood against stone announced the arrival of someone in the seat next to her.

"So, you just write right onto your hand like that? With regular ink?" said Sirius.

Thoroughly startled and uncomfortable with the situation, Susan replied: "Er… yes…"

He held out his hand. "Would you do mine?"

"Wh-what?"

"Draw on my arm." He obviously found nothing about this proposition odd at all.

"Why?"

"Well, why not?"

"I mean…" she trailed off. "You're an artist yourself, aren't you? Much better than I am, I only doodle, I mean…"

"Yes, I am quite talented with that sort of thing," Sirius remarked shamelessly. "But I've never drawn on a person before, and as vain as I am, you know that I wouldn't want to risk having something that goes onto my skin look bad. Besides, your designs are more interesting than my superbly realistic drawings. For temporary tattoo purposes, anyway."

Well, at least he was honest. Susan raised an eyebrow. "I… I suppose? I still think this is strange."

"Let's be frank here, Turtle, it's not the strangest thing I do on a regular basis." He held out his hand more insistently. "I think we should start now."

"What? But we're in class!" It was a lame excuse, but her mind was still in doodle-mode and she really couldn't think of any better reason with which to fend him off.

"And that's certainly kept you from letting your attention wander, I see."

"I'm still _listening_."

"Are you? Because I'm not."

Sirius could see his proposition failing before his eyes. It was not a pretty sight. Admittedly, this was not the greatest plan to convince Turtle to talk to him. He'd noticed that James had noticed that he didn't talk to her much, and he'd also noticed that James might have found that a little suspicious after Sirius had made such a fuss over being friends with the girl. As he still wanted to keep Dodger a secret, his only option at this point was to make Susan talk to him, somehow. After seeing her tattoo-like designs, he'd seen what he'd thought to be the perfect social gateway. Perhaps he was wrong.

Susan shifted uncomfortably; other students were beginning to notice their conversation, turning in their seats to look. "Black, not now…"

"Why not?"

Was there just no arguing with him? Was that his secret? That the only way to get him to shut up was to give him his way? Well, fine. "Just be quiet, will you?" she whispered. She hesitated before guiding his hand to rest on the table in front of her, holding his wrist gingerly between her thumb and forefinger like a potentially dangerous snake. "Erm…Anything in… in particular?"

"Not really. Whatever pops out of that pret- of that head of yours." He suddenly refused to look in her general direction, instead looking entirely aloof with his chin in the air. Toe-rag. She knew exactly what that stutter had been: A phrase he threw around frequently, in the present of females as a general population, though attractive ones in particular. "_That pretty head of yours_." He'd nearly said it out of habit, but upon remembering just which head to whom he'd been speaking, had changed his wording. Was she really so horrid that he wouldn't even thoughtlessly… Susan looked down, realizing that she'd been doodling throughout her train-wreck of thought. Spikier than her usual designs, but that made it, coincidentally, appear more masculine. He would like that, she supposed, given his earlier insecurity, if one could call anything said by such a self-involved manifestation of vanity "insecurity." Despite her anger, she continued to outline vaguely tribal lines along his wrist. She may be ugly (surely she could at least be considered _plain_?) but no one could say that she was spiteful. She would, at the very least, be kind, when interacted with. It was more than this toe-rag could manage.

Sirius would have to try harder next time; he was clearly making her nervous. The whole point of this conversation was to be friendly, after all. And his slip-of-tongue hadn't gone unnoticed, either. Her face twitched a little, but she tried to keep a straight face. He hoped he hadn't upset her; he hadn't meant to. He just couldn't have her thinking that he found her attractive. Because he didn't. And if he did, it was in a completely platonic, totally normal kind of way that was entirely appropriate between two friends of the opposite sex. He unconsciously cleared his throat. Her fountain pen tickled his hand slightly. He'd found it interesting that she used it, when nearly all of their classmates used the standard quill. It seemed inconvenient, to never be able to borrow ink or loan it out, to compare feathers. It seemed isolated. He wondered if she was lonely, now that the Snake was gone. She didn't talk about it much with Dodger. She hadn't talked about much of anything, really, just throwing the ball and singing songs. While he loved her voice (in a completely platonic and appropriate sense), he missed her monologues. His goal now was to somehow convince her to deliver the same rambling, ranting speeches to him as Sirius, rather than as her Dodger, and perhaps maybe also convince her to listen so some of his own ramblings, in return. Feeling the pen poke against his skin a little bit harder than necessary, he decided he was a long way from his goal.

The tolling of the bell could not have come sooner. Susan jumped out of her seat, away from the offending toe-rag, taking her fountain pen with her. While other students ran for the Great Hall and lunch, Susan headed outside; Black had completely ruined her appetite. The sky outside was a steely gray, threatening rain but not following through. An unseasonably chill wind whipped her hair along her face as she made her way to the rocky hills she considered her refuge. Few came to this particular stretch of the grounds, as the jutting rocks were a pain to climb over. However, the same shape that made them difficult made them excellent hiding places. Holding her skirt against the wind, Susan stepped over a few outcroppings, only to stop to listen. The wind carried with it a sound all too familiar to Susan, though for once she wasn't the one making it. Someone was crying. Unsure of the reason why (after all, what she really wanted was to be alone), Susan headed for the source of the sound. Rounding a corner, she saw two feet sticking out from around a large boulder. These two particular feet Susan would have known anywhere, having been left on the ground staring at them after countless jinxes. She stepped closer, out of compassion or insanity she knew not which. "Rienne?" Susan breathed. "Are you… alright?"

"Who's…Wh-who's…" (sniffling) "Who's there?" The feet pulled behind the rock, towards their respective owner.

"Er… no one."

"Bleedin' Nora, it's no one, who the hell is there?" This would have sounded much more threatening had it not come out as a whimper.

Susan walked around the boulder to face the other girl. "It's Susan Ponds. If that doesn't ring a bell you might recognize me as gutter troll." Her face twisted, regretting that. She had just made the pact with herself to be kind earlier that day.

"What do you want, gutter-snipe?" Rienne snapped, tossing a handful of grass at Susan.

_That one's new, _Susan thought, blowing a bit of dirt off her lip where it had landed. "I… I just wanted to see… you know, if you were alright."

"Of course I'm not bloody alright! Do I look alright to you? Did I look alright this morning? No I'm not alright! My life is over! Everything's gone! Get out of my face!"

Undeterred (she was pretty sure this was out of insanity at this point), Susan sat down next to her, cross-legged. "What happened?"

Rienne stared at her like she'd grown a second head. At this rate, it wouldn't have seemed that unusual. At first, she said nothing, only glaring at the ground in front of her, tears streaming down her face. Minutes could have passed, or hours, or days, before she said anything. "My grandfather died."

Susan remained quiet.

In her own time, Rienne continued. "He… he was my family. He was everything. My parents died when I was young, run down by a filthy Muggle in his filthy Muggle automobile while he'd been on the drink, because apparently filth like them have nothing better to do with their lives." Susan tried to ignore this part. "And he raised me, on his own, after my grandmother died, too. He made me everything that I am. My dignity and grace and power, all from him. I mean, you have to learn it, you know? You don't get that kind of elegance shit naturally. And then he dies and it comes out that he'd had an affair. With a _mud-blood!_ A filthy, stinking, mud-blood! Had a whole bloody second family! And _then he left them the house_!" Here, Rienne dissolved once more into sobs. Strangely, Rienne Halloway was not a pretty crier. In fact, her hacking, snot-dribbled sobs were perhaps some of the worst Susan had ever seen, though that might have been due to the utter shock of the situation.

It was then that Susan realized. What was she _doing?_ She'd come outside to wallow, to roll around in her own misery at her own pathetic life, when really, it wasn't all that bad. She had a family who loved her, complete with all four grandparents, all perfectly normal folk. Rienne had just lost her whole world.

"Here," Susan said, holding out a handkerchief. She kept several of them about her person, being unusually prone to teary bouts of self-pity.

Rienne, too upset to turn it down, took the offered handkerchief and blew into it noisily. After a few minutes of sniffling, she finally turned to look at Susan. Her eyes were red but clear, her forehead unmarred by the lines of a glare. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Are you trying to make me feel bad? For teasing you?"

"No, I don't think that's what I'm doing," Susan said. The thought had crossed her mind, but she liked to think that she was doing this out of simple madness rather than spite. "I don't really know why."

"Well, I don't need your pity."

"I'm sure you don't."

Rienne stared at her, then. "I think that's the first time you've ever spoken to me without stuttering."

_'Can you blame me?' _Susan nearly asked, only to stop herself. "Thank you," she said instead.

"For what?" Rienne's voice was quiet.

"For making me realize how silly I am," Susan answered, turning to stare off at the steel-gray sky. Clouds were beginning to become distinct, separating from the blurry background. Perhaps it would finally rain. "I'm ashamed of myself," she said, after a pause. "I never pitied you because I've been much too busy pitying myself, for things that are mostly my fault. I'm a coward, but that's really the most cowardly excuse of them all." She faced Rienne again. "I'm really sorry this has happened to you. It's truly terrible. If you ever need to talk about it, I am a good listener. For now, I think that we should go inside. I think it's going to rain."

The other girl stared, wide-eyed, as Susan stood and offered her a hand. Trembling slightly, Rienne took it, pulling herself up to stand next to the strange Turtle. Together, they started walking. Before they reached the castle, however, Rienne stopped. "I can't go in," she said. "No one can see me like this."

"No one will," Susan said. "You're walking with Turtle the Wallflower, remember? I'm an expert at being invisible." Rienne, seeing the practicality in this, nodded her assent. With that, they stepped into a side corridor and were gone from sight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Aaaaargh I'm sorry this was so terribly late! It took me forever to get this thing right. This is a really important chapter and I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. It still isn't, but it's much, much closer than it was before! Thank you all so much for your reviews and patience, I love you all!**

**And before I go any further, I must thank all of you! Here goes… SkyeBlue, Spot'sGalFrom1899, Anonymous, Megg, BertamWooster, Random Chicky, RosesInJamJars, WhatsTheTimeMrWolf, AAAAGGHH, orangezauber, smilingfaces, ballet022, Frecklefreak, Starcrier, Julie London, Guest, (other) Guest, rain-and-smiles, PsychoRoseTic, PadfootsGirlxxx, misswinterjayne, Sango148, Wolfsaint, settingthesunrise, LuckyandStars, The Lovelorn Angel, LilaVanilla, xOxO Lost Angel OxOx, Brown-Eyed-Marauderette, xxsillywillxx, QueenOfAwesomeness, Mikaela, Trelaney, nyxaurora, The Weatherwitch, Cisselah, lovehorses13, Insert Silly Pen Name Here, MegPotter123, PureAngelEyes, becoming-sunlight, Dustfinger's cheering section, Purple and Green Zebras, CaptainThetaSigma, Mekarle, reifa96lockheart, Spot' Goil, and SiriuslyAmazayn! Whew. You guys make my life, siriusly!**

**Special thanks to Starcrier, Wolfsaint, PsychoRoseTic, BertamWooster, Random Chicky, orangezauber, Guest, xOxO Lost Angel OxOx, Brown-Eyed-Marauderette, and CaptainThetaSigma in particular for their amazing reviews and support! And now, for the part you all actually came to read. Hopefully.**

The trip to the dungeons was awkward, silent, and (in some of the passageways) dusty. Neither girl spoke; neither particularly wanted to. True to her word, Susan delivered the bleary-eyed Slytherin to the dungeons with no more human contact than one very intimidated second-year. Even red-faced and tear-streaked, Rienne Halloway was a master at making people feel impossibly small. They arrived not far from the kitchens; Susan stayed only long enough to see the other girl to the Slytherin entrance.

"See? That wasn't so terrible, now was it?" Susan said.

Rienne nodded; Susan recognized this as the closest thing to thanks as she was going to get. "This doesn't mean we're going to be friends, or anything, alright?" Rienne grumbled.

"Of course not," Susan replied. "That would be absurd."

"You're still a gutter-snipe."

"I've always been rather partial to snipes."

"Gutter troll."

On that note, Rienne turned to face the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories. Just as she made to enter, however, the door swung open, revealing a startled Roberta Brandish. "Halloway," she noted coolly.

"Brandish," Rienne replied, ducking around her into the green-tinted light of the common room.

Roberta started to walk away, only then to notice Susan standing off to the side. She hesitated. "Susan?" she finally said, taking a step toward her.

After a moment of silence: "That's my name," Susan said, meeting Roberta's eyes for the first time since their fight.

"What are you doing down here?"

"What do you think?"

"I have no idea."

"Well… frankly, neither do I."

The two girls stared each other down. The gloom of the dungeons was oppressive, a nearly tangible presence, as though the castle had stopped breathing to watch. The stagnant air was dank and smelled vaguely of old cauldrons. Susan absently wondered how on earth anyone could bear to live down there. Didn't they all feel like they were constantly drowning in the smell of mold and failed potions assignments?

It was Roberta who broke the silence. "I… I'm sorry."

"You've said as much," Susan managed to say. This wasn't a conversation she'd wanted to happen, ever. Really, she'd been so content just to let things lie; at least, that's what she'd very sternly been telling herself.

"You really are better than the others. I don't know anyone else who would have done that. What you did. With Rienne, back there. Except maybe Saint Lily."

Susan didn't really know what to say. "You don't know what I did," she eventually said. "For all you know, I could have been the one to make her cry."

Roberta only snorted, devolving quickly into a giggling mess.

"Is the idea of me making someone cry really so silly?" Susan snapped. She paused to consider her words, only to begin laughing, herself. "Oh, alright," she managed between giggles.

It was just like that.

It happened so quickly Susan could actually feel her head spinning, and wondered if she should go to the Hospital Wing for whiplash. As quickly as their friendship had ended, it began again even more so. But she supposed that was just how things happened, sometimes. Sometimes things just click into place.

Sirius, however, was less than enthused. He'd seen what the Stone Snake had done – or rather, not done - and apparently Susan had, too. Yet here she was, pretending nothing had ever happened between them. Well, he amended to himself, that wasn't quite true. Their friendship was restored, but not to its former state. Trust had been lost, hurtful things had been said, and while it was suddenly, unusually, startlingly better, it was not perfect. The two girls sat on a blanket on the grounds, books scattered about them, the only reminder of their earlier intention to study. The Snake was telling a story about herself which she clearly found hilarious. Sirius was dismayed to find that Susan agreed with her.

"And he wrote me back! That was the best part! I've hardly ever been more excited to receive anything in my entire life!" the Snake cackled.

"Oh, Thomas always was so good about that," Susan said, fondly. "He made sure he always wrote back. Not to say that you weren't special, or anything, of course! But I still can't hardly believe that you wrote my brother a love letter."

"Well, it's not like I was the only one. Like you said. He got a lot of fan mail. He was a handsome, young, Quidditch star. What else would you expect? My parents weren't exactly thrilled by my infatuation, though."

Susan leaned back, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. "Do you remember what he wrote to you, by any chance? Or did you lose it?"

"Lose it?!" the Snake sounded outraged at the prospect. "I nearly had the thing framed! I've still got it memorized! You know what he said? When I proposed to him? He said, 'You're pretty young now, Roberta, but I'm not going to say it's out of the question. You'll just have to grow up a few years, first, before you should start thinking about such serious stuff.' Isn't that sweet? He wouldn't turn me down. Didn't want to crush my dreams. So adorable."

"You _proposed?!_" Susan cried. Both girls erupted into a raucous bout of laughter, clutching their sides. "Merlin, I can't picture you being such a sop! It's like, oh, I don't know. It's like trying to imagine a hyena conducting a Tchaikovsky ballet!"

"Did you just call me a hyena?"

It had been two days since they'd begun speaking again, and Susan had yet to explain, despite all the meaningful looks Sirius been shooting her way. He supposed there were limits to what one could communicate as a dog, but he'd been rather disappointed, regardless. The whole situation seemed uncanny. But, he reasoned, Susan Ponds was rather strange; it would only make sense that her friendships would be strange, as well. It wasn't any stranger than what _he_ was doing, anyway.

With these thoughts running circles in his head, Dodger padded away from the pair, into the forest, circling around the grounds until he found a safe place to become Sirius again. He couldn't help but notice that Susan hardly noticed that he left. For some reason, that bothered him even more than the fact that she was friends with the Snake again. Between that idiotic puppy and now the Stone Snake, he'd hardly ever have her to himself. He tried not to think about _why_ he was so jealous of her company. Because he wasn't. Jealous, that is. Not at all.

Sirius made his way back up to the castle, to the Gryffindor dormitories, blatantly ignoring Helen as he passed her in one of the corridors. He could always talk to her later; he could have _her_ to himself practically whenever he wanted. She always made time for him. Sometimes her sweetness made him hate himself; she was much too good for him, so patient and kind, while he (if he was being honest with himself) treated her like dirt. He often consoled himself reasoning that she was too boring for him, with a completely normal and harmless sense of humor and no secrets. Everything about her was right there, right on the surface: she wore her heart on her sleeve. While this had initially been what had attracted him to her, this quality of friendly openness, he was now growing quite tired of it. There seemed to be no second layer to her, nothing hidden, no secrets to discover. Susan, he thought, was rather a bundle of little mysteries, all hidden away behind that curtain of hair. Which is why she made an excellent friend and absolutely nothing more than that.

He eventually made it to the room he shared with James, Remus, and Peter. The room was empty, save for James, who sat on his bed, looking as melancholy as Sirius was frustrated. He did perk up a little when his friend entered the room.

"Just the man I wanted to see!" James chirped. "I've come to a decision, after much deliberation, humiliation and consternation."

"And that would be…" Sirius sighed.

"I'm no longer in love with Lily Evans."

This managed to catch Sirius's attention. "You what?"

"Well, not outwardly, anyhow. I'm tired, Pads. I've spent years on this girl, with nothing to show for it. As a business model, my wooing tactics are, to put it delicately, dragon shit."

Sirius should have known that the only thing that could have put James in this mood was a girl. _The _girl, rather. Though this was, in fact, a surprise: James was never one to give up, especially on Lily Evans.

"So, I decided, see," James continued, "that I'm wasting my time. I've been childish, arrogant, and selfish. And while none of that is likely to change anytime soon, I can at least not look like a fool while being those things. I can be childish, arrogant, and selfish with some dignity, like some kind of… oh, I don't know, prickly dictator or something. I can be these things in such a way that inspires fear and respect. Not pity."

"And there it is." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Really, Pads, I've seen it in their eyes. They pity me. When they see me fail, time and time again, they pity me."

"So it's a pride, thing, then."

"Of course it is! What else would it be? But I'm tired, too, Sirius, I'm so tired of being snubbed and turned down and shouted at. It's not worth it anymore." James flopped back on his bed, only to jump back up. "I need something to distract me, before I fall into a spiraling depression. I will not cry all over my exams. I need to get away from my own life and problems, focus on other people, like a philanthropic sort of therapy. So I'm going to meddle in your life, instead. Where have you been sneaking off to lately? You seem to be spending more and more time these days doing…what, exactly?" he asked, grinning, ignoring his friend's groan. "Not two-timing behind dear Helen's back, are we?"

Sirius sighed. "Well, not exactly," he began.

"Blimey, Sirius, I was joking! You're actually stepping out on your girlfriend? I know we have low standards, but…"

"I said _not exactly,_" Sirius repeated, with an unintended vehemence. James' prying was the last thing he needed at the moment. Though, he realized, his friend's problems were a sight worse than his own, and he needed the distraction. Sighing, he explained: "I am spending time, casual time, with a girl, not snogging her, so don't get your knickers in a twist. We're not doing anything _inappropriate_, per se, so it's not cheating. But… Oh, I don't know, Prongs. Things are getting odd. I don't know what to make of it all."

"So, she fancies you?"

Sirius snorted. "Most definitely not."

"You fancy _her_, then?"

"Of course not! She's… well, she's… No. Absolutely not. I mean, I like her well enough, certainly, but it's platonic, completely platonic. What we have is completely… well, I wouldn't say _normal_, but-"

"Wait, you hang out with people that I don't know about?"

"We're not attached at the hip, you know, regardless of what Moony says."

"Ah," James said, pacing. "So you most definitely don't fancy her at all, in the slightest, in any possible, conceivable, imaginable manner. There is not a single chance in the world that you might possibly fancy this girl. Who is this, again?"

"Don't worry about it. Her name's not important, not to you, anyway. And I mean, I wouldn't say that it's unimaginable, just… I don't fancy her. I don't. I swear, I don't. I really, really don't. Not at all. I don't."

James stared at his friend, smiling like a madman. "Yes you do."

"Oh, God, I _do_." At this revelation, Sirius put his hands over his face, sitting on his bed only to slide off onto the floor. Once there, he made no move to get up. "In the name of all that is magic I _do_. Merlin, when did this happen? Oh, bloody hell."

"Well, this is no good, Padfoot," said James with a toothy grin, clearly over the moon about the whole thing. He was not nearly as sympathetic to his friend's plight as he should have been, given their circumstances. "So, who is the lucky lady?"

Sirius remained silent for the first time in recent memory. Rather than replying, he buried his face further into his hands, slouching against the bedframe.

"Come on Pads, what's her name?" James coaxed.

Finally: "Susan. Susan Ponds."

"Merlin's _pants,_ Sirius, you're shitting me! The Turtle?"

"Don't call her that," Sirius snapped, before amending: "Her name is Susan."

"Merlin, this is for real, isn't it? How is this even possible?"

"Because…" Sirius sighed, knowing he was about to forfeit the secret he'd been so preciously guarding. "She doesn't know it's me. She only knows me in my Animagus form. She thinks I'm a stray. She named me Dodger."

"You fancy a girl who thinks you're a dog?" asked James. "Excuse me while I hit my head against the wall for your sake." James did so, three times, and stopped. "Susan Ponds?"

"Yes, Susan Ponds!" Sirius flopped back on his bed, one hand over his eyes. "She's actually really pretty, you know, when she smiles. And she's funny, James. She's so funny; she's just so shy that you wouldn't ever know it. And when she sings, it's like…"

"I'm going to stop you right now before you make a bigger fool out of yourself. Why don't you just ask her out? Well, besides the obvious and rather problematic girlfriend thing."

"Because she thinks that I am, and I quote, 'an arrogant toerag.'"

"Welcome to the club. Friend, that is, letter for letter, my exact problem. Does she hang out with Lily at all?" James asked.

"They're roommates, but beyond that I don't know."

"Hmm."

While James contemplated the implications of their respective lady-loves being roommates, Sirius laid on his bed, face down, wishing he could sink through the mattress, into the floor, into a hole in the ground, and never, ever come back out again. Everything was wrong. Everything was ruined. He couldn't possibly have non-platonic feelings for Susan Ponds.

And yet.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at his right hand, where her doodles traced over his wrist and knuckles. She had barely touched him, annoyed and uncomfortable as she had been, but he still remembered the feeling of her fingers on his skin. He could still pinpoint the exact places where her skin had met his, her hands cold, especially compared to how warm his had been. She probably hadn't even noticed, trying as desperately as she was to avoid any contact. She hated him; he knew that. She only liked him when he was a dog, when he didn't speak, when he wasn't Sirius, but Dodger. He tried not to think about the implications of that fact.

Susan, oblivious to Sirius's troubles, continued to have a wonderful day. She and Roberta had spent the entire afternoon lazing about in the sun, talking about nothing in particular and giggling enough to make their sides hurt for the rest of the day. The weather was humid, ruining both of their hair and ultimately forcing them to retreat inside. On a whim, Susan recommended the Muggle Music classroom, where she'd spent many a lonely afternoon over the years. It seemed appropriate to give it some more populous memories.

The lack of reservation she felt with her friend was a wonderful relief after the weeks of solitude, the staccato rhythm of Roberta's speech a percussive punctuation in their conversations. Roberta Brandish was herself rather musical, as a being, though she professed to have such a lack of _literal_ talent in the area as to actually have _negative_ ability, if that was possible. Susan, after trying to introduce her to various instruments, couldn't help but agree. Despite her shortcomings in the _creation_ of music, Roberta excelled in listening.

"That's rather nice," she commented.

Susan, who had been pecking at the keys of the upright piano, shrugged. "It's just a progression that I like a lot. A lot of my favorite melodies have come out of it."

"Favorites as in ones you listen to or ones that you wrote that you like?"

"Er, both. But mostly ones that I listen to," Susan said.

"You write, too? Really? I've been in the presence of a genius. This whole time. And I didn't have a clue. Why is that?" Roberta asked with a smile.

"Funny."

"No, really, though, Susie Q. You're good. You just have to see it yourself."

Susan looked at her friend, who returned her stare with a cheesy thumbs-up. Despite years of conditioning to the contrary, Susan was beginning to find that a Slytherin tie does not a villain make. After the loud rumbling of her stomach interrupted a song she'd been playing, she suggested heading for dinner in the Great Hall. Roberta sat at the end of the Gryffindor table with Susan, much to the interest of Nearly Headless Nick; the ghost pestered them, good-naturedly, for their entire meal. By the end of the night, Susan was in such a good mood that she joined her roommates' conversation, surprising all of them not quite as much as herself.

The other girls, though, were kind enough not to ask too many questions, instead quickly welcoming Susan into their circle. "We were just talking about Lily and James," Alice said.

"Oh, don't say it like that; you make us sound like a couple!" Lily complained, hanging her head.

"Lils, you only think that because you're overthinking it. You're overthinking everything!" said Marlene.

Mary leaned over to bring Susan up to speed. "James and Lily bumped into each other after supper and he didn't say anything, and she's all put out about it, now."

"I am not!" Lily protested. "I… I merely think that it is strange, that's all. I mean, it's very unusual, isn't it? For him not to say anything? I think it's strange."

Marlene snickered. "Oh, you're just mad because he's not paying you your daily dose of attention."

"That is not it!"

"You can't really have expected him to wait for you forever, Lily!" said Alice, ever the voice of reason and maturity. At least, as mature as they were going to be in this situation. Frankly, they were all delighted at Lily's reaction: None of them had any plans at all to ever let her live it down.

"He did seem a little off, today," Susan added. To their credit, the group not only heard her, but listened, as well. So far, this little venture was going splendidly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Lily asked, leaning forward a little.

"I dunno," Susan said. "A little manic, I suppose. Like he had something important on his mind."

The rest of the group murmured in agreement, deep in thought. Lily spoke up first. "Now that you've said it, I suppose you're right. Do you think that everything's alright? I've heard that his father hasn't been doing so well lately."

"Well, the Potters are pretty old, for parents."

"Really, Marlene!" scolded Alice. "Have you no tact?"

"It's true, though! They're pushing what, seventy? It's practically Biblical!"

"Still, that was not a kind thing to say," Alice replied, crossing her arms. Before Marlene could open her mouth to speak again, Alice continued, "And don't you 'yes mum' me! It's not my fault I'm the mature one around here."

Lily defused the situation with a comment of her own: "I'm not going to wait so long to have children," she said, with a determined air. "I'm going to do it early on, so that they have me for a long time. I don't want them to go through any of this death business while they're still young."

The other girls murmured in agreement. They also nodded their assent when Marlene loudly announced that she was retiring for the night. Susan, who'd been fighting off a pleasant tiredness all evening, decided that perhaps she didn't need to be last for the bathroom that night. When Marlene emerged a while later, Susan stepped ahead of Lily and Alice, who had both stood. "You two don't mind, do you?" she asked, without so much as a stutter. The two other girls smiled and shook their heads; no, of course they didn't mind. Susan closed the door behind her, looking briefly at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She looked boldly into her own eyes and smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN COMPLETELY OVERHAULED! Please read for new and important plot points! And of course, sorry about that ridiculous wait.**

Unlike the vast majority of Hogwarts students, Susan Ponds had a delightful time of exams. Having thrown herself into her studies for the past month, she felt entirely prepared for most of the tests, and for those subjects at which she had no talent, well, there wasn't much she could do about it. In fact, Susan met the academic challenges of her penultimate year at school with a strange sort of calm. While she sat each exam, the grains of sand in the hourglasses trickling away, she had a perfect sense of what she knew and what she didn't, and felt no panic over what she didn't know. And frankly, she knew most of it.

As the year ended and the entire student body emptied the castle onto the Hogwarts Express, Susan felt an extraordinary sense of relief, coupled with a good bit of self-satisfaction. She'd done well on her exams, and that was that. Probably better than she'd ever done, really. Her life may have taken a turn for the worse that spring, but she'd recovered splendidly, like an arrow shooting forward after being drawn back. She and Roberta were some of the first students onto the train, and were able to nab an entire compartment all to themselves, for a while at least.

"I actually can't believe we only have one year left," Susan mused, staring out the window at the castle, shining in the distance. The light of the afternoon sun glinted off the slate roofs of every tower and every single window glittered. "And then off to the real world… to be squished like caterpillars under the weight of responsibility…"

"Ugh, Susie Q. Such a downer," said Roberta, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Sure, responsibility, but also, independence! Freedom!"

"Name one time in your life that you've ever so much as done laundry."

"Pft," Roberta snorted. "Duh, that's what _magic _is for."

Susan rolled her eyes, smiling and propping her feet up next to Roberta across from her. The corners of that smile, however, tugged downward slightly. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd forgotten something important. Then again, she reasoned with herself, she always felt that way, regardless of whether she'd actually forgotten anything or not. And if she had, it was likely replaceable; she had very few possessions with deep sentimental value (most of them found in the secret room Tommy had shown her) and they were all tucked neatly into her luggage. She decided not to think about it; she'd find out if anything was missing when she got home. She turned back from the window to Roberta, continuing to talk about their plans for the future.

The conversation was halted by the sudden jolt forward and a whistle signaling departure. As the train accelerated, the two girls could hear the scramble of the last to board, finding space wherever it was left. The door to their compartment slid open to reveal a slightly-frazzled looking Rienne Halloway. She eyed the two occupants imperiously before settling into a corner. Noting their stares, she turned to face the other girls. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," Roberta and Susan chorused.

"It's like I told you," Rienne stated, sitting down, "we're not friends."

"I completely understand," said Susan.

"I don't," said Roberta.

The three girls passed the next few minutes in awkward silence. Susan thought the quiet was rather companionable, though Roberta looked distinctly uncomfortable and Rienne stared so pointedly at the corner she might've been trying to drill a hole into it.

The long rattle of heavy footsteps in the corridor, along with a clamor of laughter, accompanied the next group to grace the compartment. James Potter's lanky frame, closely followed by Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, tumbled into the tiny room. "Oh, sincerest apologies," James said, dusting himself off. "Thought this one was empty. You're all so silent."

"What are _you_ doing here?" Black asked Rienne, a degree of contempt in his voice.

"What's it to you, traitor?"

"Honestly, the company you keep," Black lamented, turning to face Susan.

"Yes, the _company_ she _keeps_," said Lupin, giving Black's ear a chastising tug.

Susan could only stare at them all; they were acting so _oddly_. "I happen to rather enjoy them, thank you," she said, blinking.

"Where's our darling Gretchen?" Potter asked Rienne. "Not following you around like a lost puppy, anymore?"

Potter's comment threw Susan into a near-panic as she remembered what she'd left behind. "Oh my goodness, Dodger!" Susan exclaimed suddenly. "I've left him at the castle!" Black's head whipped back around to face her. He gave her the strangest look, one she could not have deciphered if she'd tried, though she was hardly focused on him at that moment. "How will he find me now?" she said, her voice very near a wail.

Roberta patted her shoulder. "He got on just fine before he found you, Su. He'll get on just fine now. And he's magical. Right? I thought you said he was magical. He'll be fine."

"But he'll miss his daily treat! I always bring him something! And you know, once an animal's been trained to something like that, it's never easy for them to make a sudden transition away from it…"

"Somehow, I think he'll be fine," said Potter with a mischievous air. "Who knows, maybe he'll even follow you."

"All the way back to Somerset?" Susan exclaimed. "How would he ever do that?"

"_Magic_," said Roberta, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole of the world. Perhaps, at this point, it was.

Without much more fuss, the four "Marauders" hauled themselves back out the door. Sirius Black was the last to leave, and Susan could have sworn he _winked _at her before he darted off to wreak havoc on another unsuspecting compartment.

Susan's parents met her on the Muggle side of the brick wall (they'd never been comfortable trying to cross, even though she, and Thomas before her, had assured them that as their parents they'd be able to), with wide grins and open arms. At home waited a welcome even more enthusiastic: Tommy, ever since earning his fame as a Quidditch player, preferred to greet Susan at home, to avoid her being smothered by the modest crowds of fans that tended to follow him around in public.

"Su!" Tommy shouted, clearing the length of their living room in three long strides, sweeping her up in a bone-crushing hug. "It's been ages! You're so tall! How were exams? How was your year? Who won the Quidditch cup? Has Kettleburn lost all his limbs yet, or is he still insisting all his wounds are but a scratch?"

"Hi, Tommy," Susan managed, despite the constriction on her ribcage. Removing herself from her brother's enthusiastic hug, she answered: "And good, fine, Ravenclaw, I think; and still teaching."

"Never one to waste words, eh, Su?" He ruffled her hair, much to her dismay.

"Well, Merlin knows with you I need to make everything as monosyllabic as possible. Your poor, bludger-addled head couldn't take much more!" Susan teased.

"Bludger-addled? We'll see whose head is addled, come practice, won't we?"

Susan groaned. "Tommy, I thought we were done with this! No one goes out for Quidditch their seventh year!"

"First time for everything," Thomas replied, slinging one arm around Susan's shoulders to steer her into the kitchen for supper.

Susan spent the next few hours listening to her parents' plans for the summer, how their past few months had been, and what shenanigans Tommy's teammates had been getting up to at practice. The next few days were whiled away sleeping in her own bed, taking luxuriously long bubble baths (she was still rather fond of that bottle of vanilla soap she'd found in the Room of Lost Things), and spending hours upon hours completely alone in her room. Strangely, the latter was much less relaxing then it had been in the past.

Normally, Susan passed her summers interacting with as few people as possible, reveling in blissful solitude. This year, she'd expected to do very much the same, and yet the hours spent daydreaming in a chair in a corner of her house were somehow different. She couldn't help but think that she knew exactly what it was that she was feeling, but her brain refused to acknowledge it. There was no way that a bit of alone-time could possibly leave her feeling, of all things, _empty_.

Unfortunately, the day finally came that she couldn't deny it any longer. She was lonely. Roberta was on holiday somewhere tropical, and never failed to write. Her letters often arrived in bundles, short little things not unlike telegrams, written sporadically throughout the day. While Susan was always sure to write back, she couldn't help but notice how blank the pieces of parchment seemed. She had nothing to write about. _Dear Roberta- So glad to hear about your marvelous experience at the dragon hatchery. I spent another day in that armchair, staring into space. Love, Susan. _

It was sad.

That was when Susan began to take walks around town. It was more a village than a town, small as it was, but it was lively enough during the warm afternoons. It was a mixed community of both Muggles and wizards, which had made her childhood and Tommy's easier than those of most Muggle-borns. Their parents had been much quicker to accept the existence of magic once they realized that a third of the neighbors were practicing witches and wizards. Tommy had gotten the best deal of it, though, with several of his school friends living nearby. Susan got the decidedly worse end of the deal, with the only other Hogwarts student in her class living nearby being James Potter, and now, apparently, Sirius Black. Susan was by no means informed on the situation that had led to Black living with the Potter family, but she did her best not to question it and to try to avoid them to the fullest of her abilities.

Unfortunately, complete non-contact did not turn out to be possible. On the way to the grocer's, Susan had the misfortune of bumping into James and Sirius, because that seemed to be what the universe had in store for her that day. What was the probability of that, she wondered: running into the two most obnoxious people on the planet in an interval of only two blocks. She tucked her head to the side as subtly as possible and hoped that they wouldn't notice her.

"Oi, Turtle!" called James. Sirius whacked him on the arm, rather hard. "I mean, Susan!"

So, her plan had failed. "Er- hello?" she said to them.

"Hi, Susan," Sirius waved, smiling at her like an old friend. It was a little disconcerting, though she supposed that Black was used to people falling under his spell after minimal interaction. "How's your summer been?"

"Ehm… hungry. So if you'll excuse me, I'm on my way to the grocery…"

"That dog of yours shown up yet?" Potter asked with a knowing smile. It was the same smile he'd worn while they talked about Dodger on the train home, Susan realized, not entirely comfortable with that fact.

"No, he hasn't," she said, trying not to sound too morose.

"_Really_? That's certainly odd. I would have thought he'd have dropped by, by now, wouldn't _you_ think, Padfoot?" he asked, turning to Sirius.

Sirius, suddenly on the defensive, replied, "What, you think a dog could walk all the way from the highlands to Somerset in just a few days?"

"A _magical_ dog certainly could," Potter said.

"Well maybe this dog isn't so much magical as just really clever, with a very realistic sense of timing!" Black retorted. The exchange had taken on a life of its own; Susan could do nothing more than watch, like a spectator at a tennis match.

"Really clever, eh?" James asked, grinning. "I doubt it."

"Really? Because I would think that a clever, magical dog like Susan's would know not to be too obvious about his being _magical_, so as not to alert anyone to his being particularly _magical_, because his being _magical _may not be entirely legal."

"I think I'm just going to-" Susan began.

"No, wait, we're just about to get this settled!" Potter insisted.

"There's nothing to settle!"

"I'm very hungry just now, so I think I'll just be on my way to the grocery, actually," Susan said, backing away slowly.

"But-" Sirius started. Now it was his turn to be hit by James.

"That's right then, we'll leave you to it, because you're shy and that's what you prefer and we're going to respect that now, aren't we, Sirius?" he said.

"Hypocrite."

"Yes, correct, we'll just be off now." James took off down the street, leaving Sirius to follow him. Sirius glanced at Susan, shrugged, and ran after him.

Grateful, if a little confused, Susan continued on her way. Once at her destination, she wandered around, searching for anything that seemed appealing. She passed by the produce section and saw nothing, the same result in the butcher's. Finally she settled on some frozen chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. Food was so much easier to stomach when it didn't look like… well, food. Content with her purchases, she began to walk home.

By the end of the trip, Susan was winded, huffing and puffing and nearly doubled over. Though uphill, the walk was hardly a long one, no more than two miles, and her two measly purchases couldn't possibly weigh as much as they seemed to, as they pulled on her tired arms. Her stomach growled; she'd only managed a bite of a muffin since she had woken up nearly nine hours earlier. _Alright, _she decided. _This has got to end today._ She walked back to her front porch and sat down, catching her breath. Honestly, this was getting pathetic. No, more than pathetic, pitiful. No, worse than that. It was really, truly, mind-bogglingly pitifully-pathetic. And it had stop. She wasn't going to settle for "Turtle" ever again.

After putting everything in the freezer, she stepped back out into the street and went straight back to the store. Her initial pace, a determined march, was quickly deemed a bad idea in favor of a more reasonable stride. "Forget something, love?" the old woman asked from the counter. Susan mumbled an affirmative reply and remade the circuit. Produce section: Apple, spinach, carrots. Butcher's: A quarter pound of beef. Dairy: A carton of milk and quart of yogurt, and so on. It was high time she started eating real-people food. This time much more content with her purchases, she set back to her house. By seven, she had prepared a substantial dinner, and was just sitting down to it as her parents came home from a press gala they'd been invited to as Tommy's guests. Tommy himself was likely still out with his teammates, having loads of fun and certainly not dozing around, stuffed uncomfortably inside his too-small fortress of solitude like his sister.

"We're back, sweetie!" her mother called from the doorway. "We ate at the gala- Barry, wasn't that torte _divine_? A little heavy, though- so you're on your own for tonight, Susan, dear."

"What're you having there, Su? More mashed potatoes?" asked her father, removing his jacket and shoes and stepping into the kitchen.

"Well, no," she replied. "I'm trying to eat differently, I guess."

"Goodness, sweetheart, are you going to be able to eat all of that?" asked her mother, bending down to kiss a sitting Susan on the cheek. Her earring caught in Susan's hair; she spent the next few seconds bent sideways trying to untangle it.

Meanwhile, Susan soldiered on. "I'm going to try," she said with an unconvincingly raised fist.

"Well, that's a good attitude," said Mr. Ponds. "Good luck!"

As her parents went upstairs, Susan looked back at her plate. So many colors… She steeled herself against any nausea and took her first bite. It was strange. Very strange. It tasted like… carrots. Such a strong flavor for a vegetable. She swallowed. Bite number two followed shortly thereafter, with three and four following that without incident. Before she knew it, Susan had cleared three-quarters of her plate. Full to bursting, she pushed her plate away and groaned. Her stomach couldn't seem to decide whether or not it supported the change. She cleared the leftovers into a tin and put them in the refrigerator next to her other purchases and whisked the dishes clean with a quick flick of her wand.

As she lay in bed that night, Susan found herself to be pleasantly tired, for once. Her arms still ached slightly from earlier, and her legs felt a little wobbly, but it was an agreeable sort of feeling. It was a sort of satisfaction, she thought, that existed both in her body and mind. Despite her stomach's initial misgivings, Susan decided this change was going to be a good one.

Later that night, Susan woke to the sound of barking. It wasn't unusual for the dogs in the neighborhood to howl at night (especially the hyperactive beagle two doors down), but this sounded much closer. As she blinked and sat up, the sound became clearer, and that's when she realized that she _knew _that bark. Bolting out of bed, she barely paused to pull a jacket over her pajamas before racing outside, where she found Dodger patiently waiting for her. She dropped to the ground and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Oh, sweet, I missed you! My sweet, sweet, boy! How did you find me? Oh, what am I saying, _magic_, of course! Oh, I don't even care, you're here!" She hugged him again, allowing him to lick her hands and face. She pulled away slightly, looking at him strangely. "You don't have dog breath," she stated. "Your breath smells like toothpaste! Do magical dogs brush their teeth?" Dodger looked at the ground, looking as awkward as a dog could look. "Well," Susan continued. "I suppose magical dogs can do all kinds of things. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Dodger looked back up at her with a expression not unlike relief.

They spent the next hour playing fetch, Susan babbling the entire time. She hadn't realized how much she had missed talking to him. She recounted the days since she'd last seen him, explaining her new resolution to not be a turtle. He wagged his tail and barked at that, mirroring her own little bit of growing pride.

Susan woke up an hour early the next morning, rolling out of bed with a _thunk _before attempting to raise herself on her arms, body straight. She was imitating a ritual that her brother before her had performed every morning in this very room (when he'd moved out Susan moved in; it was significantly larger than her childhood bedroom). She planned to start every morning with a series of push-ups and sit-ups, just has her brother had before her.

Unfortunately, this was a lot harder than she had previously thought.

Arms trembling, Susan slowly but surely pushed her way up to a reasonable angle. Her elbows practically creaked as she lowered her shoulders, pressing her nose to the floor. And back up again. She managed all of two more of these before her arms locked and her back gave way, leaving her sprawled on the floor, exhausted. Well, it was a start.

A few more weeks passed with Susan sticking to her new routine: Exercise (as much as she could manage, anyway) in the morning, playing with Dodger by night. By mid-July, Susan could complete a whole round of twenty-five push-ups, at once. She wasn't sure she'd ever been so proud in her life. Her stomach, it turned out, hadn't actually been fully supportive of her change in diet, as it let her know in a most unpleasant fashion over the first few days after that fateful day at the grocer's. However, after a week or two, she found that she felt better than ever.

Susan couldn't help but feel that the Change had been rather long in the making. Sure, she had only officially begun it that summer, but she hadn't quite been "Turtle" for a while. Turtle didn't have a spine; Turtle would never have thought to eat carrots for dinner, or have thought that being alone was anything less than ideal. And Turtle certainly didn't have friends.

On that front, Susan was absolutely certain that she had changed. She was talking to people; she'd even talked out loud in front of Rienne and the Marauders on the train without a second thought. Roberta had obviously played a huge role in that, she thought, but possibly so had Dodger. While Dodger was of course a dog, and Turtle had never been afraid to talk to animals, she had been awfully chatty around Dodger and that had to at least have given her some practice for the real thing.

Roberta Brandish returned from her tour of the tropics in time to witness the Susan's new life in full swing. Susan heard the _crack_ of someone Apparating not two minutes after receiving her friend's latest letter, informing her of Roberta's impending arrival.

Roberta flew through the doorway, catching Susan in a rib-crushing hug. "It's been ages! Since I've seen you, I mean. Has it been, though? Only a month or two, I suppose. But anyway, I'm here now and ready to… what are we going to do first?"

Disentangling herself from her friend's slightly bony arms, Susan laughed and replied, "Well, I was thinking lunch. Have you eaten?"

"No, I'm starving. But then again, you eat like a bird anyway."

"Actually, most birds eat their body weight in food daily."

"You _are _a nerd. You're going to be about the greatest creature-healer there ever was." Roberta affectionately punched Susan's shoulder. "Unless you turn into an overnight Quidditch sensation."

Susan giggled, her disbelief in that particular possibility (or impossibility) apparent. "So, lunch? I've made an extra sandwich. Do you like meatloaf?"

"Never had it," Roberta replied, following Susan from the entryway down the hall.

"_What_?" Susan asked, mouth hanging open. "Who in Merlin's name has never tried _meatloaf_?"

"Well, Ambroise doesn't… make that kind of thing." Roberta said this with a dismissive toss of her long hair.

"Who on Earth is _Ambroise_?" Susan asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.

"Our chef."

"Oh Lord. Your chef." Susan had always known that Roberta's family came from old, if not positively ancient, money. Many of Slytherin's elite did, though Roberta had, of late, been doing her best to separate herself from that group.

"Well, you know." Roberta shrugged. "Mother and father don't do much of anything themselves at home. So they hire other people. To manage the estate. You know."

"Alright, then. Meatloaf." Susan pointed the way to the kitchen, finding Thomas sitting on the counter, long legs dangling to the floor. Bits of meatloaf fell from his mouth as he spoke through his sandwich. "Hey, Su. Who's this?"

"Attractive, Tommy."

He held out a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Attractive." He waggled his eyebrows at Roberta, who suddenly dissolved into a giggling mushball.

"Roberta," she breathed, with a quick bend at the knees that Susan thought might have been a subtle curtsey.

"Tommy, honestly. No star-striking my friends." Susan retrieved two plates from the cabinet over the sink, noting a small chip in one, near the small decorative flowers. She made sure that Roberta got the other one. Not that she would notice, Susan thought, looking back to the pink-faced schoolgirl standing near her brother.

"Oh, I don't mind being star-struck," Roberta said with a wink.

After nearly an hour of watching in horror as her brother flirted shamelessly with her best friend, Susan had finally had enough. She communicated with Tommy in the best way she knew how: in code. "Hey, Tommy, didn't Mum say that she wanted you to fetch the carburetor from the dry-cleaners?"

"The what? Oh." He gave her an apologetic look. "Of course." With a wave at Susan and one last grin for Roberta, Tommy pulled on his shoes and left the house.

At last, Roberta seemed to remember Susan. "Carburetor? What's that?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, just boring Muggle stuff. Trust me, you wouldn't be interested."

"Right. I think I remember that from Muggle Studies. It's like cufflinks, right?"

"Mm-hm. Have you gotten your lists for next year, yet?"

"No, why? Have you?"

Susan put the dishes from earlier in the sink and turned on the faucet. "No, but I just kind of wanted an excuse to browse around Diagon Alley. Maybe we could stop by Florian Fortescue's while we're there! I don't know about you, but I've been craving some strawberry-peanut-butter ice cream. And ooh, with the melted marshmallows on top."

"You want to spend the afternoon… in a crowded place?" Roberta asked, incredulous.

Susan shrugged. "I just thought it would be kind of nice. I've been pretty much alone all summer. To be honest, I'm sick of it. I could use some social exercise."

"Alright… Well I think that sounds fantastic. I could use some new clasps. For my robes, you know. My old ones are getting dingy."

"Maybe you should stop exploding potions on them?"

"Har-har." Roberta paused, staring intently at Susan. "You know, you seem a little… different. Peachy. Louder. A bit more color. You seem kind of… glowy."

Susan rubbed the back of her head, feeling a little awkward but also, she had to admit, rather pleased. "Really? Thank you. I have been doing things differently, lately." She then got to spend the next fifteen minutes explaining to her friend what that meant. With her friend up to date, Susan reached for the tiny box of floo on a bookshelf.

Roberta cupped her hands to receive the powder. She stepped up to the fireplace, waiting for Susan. "Make sure you pronounce it right!"

"Honestly, I tell you that story _one time_…"

"Well you have to admit it. Jumbling your own grandparents' address is silly."

"How was I supposed to know that there was a shop called 'Grandmother's Headdress'? Who would ever know that that exists?"

"Well, Frank Longbottom and his mother certainly knew. You're just lucky they were there to help send you home!"

"Fine, fine. But 'Diagon Alley' is shorter, anyway. Merlin, can you imagine where you might end up if you messed up Diagon _Alley_, of all things?"

"Ugh, yes. Probably somewhere on Knockturn."

"What a nightmare _that _would be!"

With that, the two girls disappeared one after the other into green flame.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY. I don't really have an excuse this time, just simple writers' block. Anything I whipped up was just too terrible to post, which was what happened with the previous chapter. That said, for those of you who have been with me through all this, THANK YOU, and also, PLEASE RE-READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. IT HAS BEEN EDITED MAJORLY. Many bits will be the same but most of it has been redone and there are several new parts that need to be read!**

**As usual, a thousand thank you's to all of my reviewers, especially Anonymous4Ever, whose reviews really got my behind back in gear, there. THANK YOU! You're the loveliest. Hope you enjoy!**

"Bet you can't hit the weather vane on the old colonel's house!" Tommy called, pointing.

"Five sickles say I can!"

"You're on, baby sister. You should know better than to bet against the professionals, though!"

Susan balanced on her broomstick, leaning forward, gauging the distance to the house down the lane. The old colonel's brass, duck-shaped weather vane spun lazily on the changing breeze, another factor Susan paused to consider before she threw the ball. The old family Quaffle felt solid in her hand, the beaten, leathery surface reassuring as it had been for the years they'd had it. Exhaling slowly, she whipped her arm around, launching the ball over roofs and lawns. The Quaffle bounced once against the shingles of the colonel's roof before it tapped the brass duck's tail feathers, falling down the far side of the house.

"Ricochet! Didn't count!" cried Tommy.

"Objection!" Susan protested. "You never said it had to be the _first_-"

There came a loud crash and a mechanical sputtering from the far side of the targeted house, where the ball must have landed. Shouts echoed over the neighborhood to where Susan and Tommy sat on their broomsticks. The siblings looked at each other before racing through the air to the source of the commotion.

Turning the sharp corner around their neighbors' house, Susan and Tommy came skidding to the ground, neither spotting what anyone would call an ideal landing. Upon seeing who had been shouting, Susan nearly wheeled around for home, but in an instant's thought decided to stick things out. If she wanted to change everything about her life, she couldn't rightly leave her social interactions by the wayside. And if she could interact competently with James Potter and Sirius Black, she could interact with anyone.

Both Potter and Black were scrambling around what looked to be the remains of an ancient motorbike, crying out about dents and scratches from the Quaffle knocking it over. Black stopped short.

"Susan!" he exclaimed, suddenly unsure of himself. Before Susan could wonder what was troubling him, Potter elbowed him in the side, bringing him back to his senses. "And friend! I don't think we've met. Have we?"

"Tommy Ponds, pleasure to meet you," Tommy said, extending a hand.

Sirius stared blankly for a moment at Tommy's outstretched hand. "Hold on a tick; are you _that _Tommy Ponds? Chaser for Puddlemere?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you? Our Turtle here is his baby sister," Potter commented.

"…Turtle?" Tommy interjected, but he went unheard as Black turned on his friend.

"His sister? _His sister? _All this time, you never thought once that it might be slightly important to tell me that Tommy Ponds is… is your _neighbor_?"

"Well they have the same last _name_," Potter defended himself.

Black sighed. "Honor to meet you, then," he said to Tommy. To Potter, he growled: "Later. Right now, my bike needs fixing." He set himself back to examining the damage. "Aw, Merlin, you dinged it!"

"Su threw it!" Tommy teased, giving Susan a light shove.

"See, it's dented!" Black cried, pulling one of the pipes clean off to show to Susan. "Here, and here…"

"Are you sure the dents are really your problem, at this point?" Susan countered, eyeing the unbelievably thick layers of rust coating nearly every part.

"It's the _principle_ of the thing, see," Black replied. "I'm trying to fix her up right, any further damage is just insult to injury. Or more accurately, injury as insult to injury."

"Why is it _here_, though?" Tommy asked, gesturing to the large alley where they now stood. The only other occupants of the area were the neighbors' rubbish bins and a spare hose. The Potters' house was another few blocks away, into the nicer part of the neighborhood, farther from the center of the village.

"The Widow McGrady said we could have it, if we moved it out of her shed," James said, pointing at the little outbuilding standing on the lawn behind. "She heard Sirius whinging about wanting one and offered it to him, just like a sweet old lady is wont to do when there's a strapping young lad about." He laughed as Susan rolled her eyes.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Susan asked.

"How hard could it be?" Black replied.

"Forgive me if I'm a little… skeptical of your skills in Muggle mechanics," Susan said, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, you know," Black said, with a look that on any other person might have been called embarrassment. "Learning by doing."

"Well, you'll never get it done with those," Tommy said, gesturing to the meager pile of tools the two had apparently been working with. "Our dad's got a huge toolbox you two are welcome to avail yourselves of, if you like."

Susan suppressed a groan at the thought of Potter and Black cavorting around her garage. "You'll have to get all the rust off before you can do anything, anyway," she said. "Steel wool might do the trick, if you've got the patience."

"Wait, do you two know how to fix things?" Potter asked, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely," Tommy replied.

"Not really," said Susan.

Black got up from his place next to the bike and stood next to Susan. "So, er… What's steel wool?"

Suddenly, a tremor passed through the air, and every witch and wizard in the vicinity thought they may have heard someone whistling off to their left, as if trying to get their attention. "What was that?" asked Sirius, watching the other three scramble to hide their wands and other magical paraphernalia.

"The Whistle," Susan whispered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"The what?"

"The _Whistle_," James answered. "The signal in the magical part of town that a Muggle's wandered in. It happens every once in a while. You should get used to it!"

"Act natural. Act non-magical," Tommy hissed, leaning against the wall behind him. James grabbed a wrench and began to study it, looking a little ridiculous. Sirius, next to Susan, looked around in a panic for something to hold on to, and decided that Susan was as good as anything. He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"What are you _doing?"_ she hissed in his ear.

"Acting natural," he said.

"This is hardly natural," she mumbled, resigning herself to her fate. She caught Tommy giving her a stupid grin and glared when he winked at her.

They held their (slightly awkward) poses as an elderly couple tottered by. "Afternoon!" Tommy called, but the couple hardly seemed to mind him. They seemed entirely caught up in each other's presence- Susan couldn't help but smile at them. When she looked away, she caught Black staring at her oddly. "What?" she asked.

"You… er-" he began, before leaning in slightly, sniffing at her hair. Susan froze and looked straight ahead, trying very hard not to feel anything at all, not even things like how warm he was and how it seemed as if someone had dropped a Fizzing Whizzbee down her spine. "You smell like vanilla."

"Sorry?" She snapped out of her trance.

"You smell like… a very particular vanilla," he said, a strange look on his face.

"Oh, well, it's the soap I use, I guess," she explained. "Vanilla cake or something like that."

James looked up at them, an expression of unadulterated glee on his face. "Vanilla cake, you say?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Wherever did you get it?" Potter asked, a massive grin on his face.

"I found it… but whoever had it before clearly didn't want it anymore. She left a note."

"You hear that, Padfoot? _She _left a note!"

Sirius Black wore a look of abject horror. Susan couldn't for the life of her figure out why the mention of her soap would distress him so. Perhaps it had belonged to one of his various lady-friends? That might explain the blush quickly spreading across the poor boy's face.

"Ahem… _anyway_," Tommy coughed, catching the attention of the other three. "I don't think Widow McGrady meant for you to move the bike out of her shed only to move it into her alleyway, so would you prefer to keep it at your house, or at ours?"

"Why in Merlin's name would they keep it at our house?" Susan cried.

"Because that's where the tools are," Tommy drawled, as if she were silly for not thinking of that.

"They can take them to their house, just as easily," Susan countered.

"Yes, but would Dad really want all of his tools to be sitting a mile away for the entire summer? I think he'd want them closer."

If Susan didn't know better, she'd have thought that her brother was _trying _to ruin her summer. The idiotic grin on his face certainly suggested as much. What was he smiling about, anyway? Now that she noticed it, Susan realized that Potter had the exact same look on his face. Wondering if she was missing something (perhaps she had sauce on her face?), she turned to Black, only to realize that his arm was still around her shoulders. He met her eyes and they both jumped, scrambling to opposite sides of the alley. Potter broke into laughter next to them.

Two days later, Susan and Roberta sat in a corner booth at a restaurant in town, munching on chips, having just left the latest showing of _Star Wars_ at the local cinema. "That was so amazing!" Roberta gushed. "Are there very many of those? Do you see them all the time? I would see them all the time. I would never stop."

"In the summer, I see films fairly often," Susan said with a smile. "But there's not really a cinema anywhere in Hogsmeade. It's more of a Muggle thing, obviously."

"Oh, can you imagine that?" Roberta said, a dreamy look in her eye. "That was a lot like magic, I think."

"In a way."

"I had no idea Muggle technology was so… wow!" Roberta paused to swallow her food before continuing. "Are light sabers terribly expensive?"

"What?"

"I just figure that they are. Because you don't see them around much. Not that I'm in Muggle areas much anyway. But are they?"

Susan spent the next few minutes explaining the concept of science fiction to her friend. "… so a lot of these take place on other planets. Honestly, these past few days, I wished I was on another planet."

"Why so?" Roberta asked.

"Black and Potter have taken up residence in my garage," Susan lamented.

"What?!"

"My idiot brother's idea- they're fixing up an old motorbike and he offered them our space to do it. All day, practically all night, they're there, making noise but not progress, of course, and constantly needing to ask questions, 'Susan, what's this do?' 'Susan, this broke,' 'Susan, how do Muggles do anything?'"

"All valid questions. If you ask me."

"That's just it, they're always asking me! Tommy, of course, took off for London as soon as the two set up shop!"

"Wait, he's in London now?" Roberta asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes, so you can stop mooning over him now, please!" Susan said with a light slap to her friend's shoulder. "Is there an opposite to love potion that I can buy somewhere? Because I think you need it."

"Har-har, Susie Q. Surely you're used to this. Your brother being…_Tommy Ponds_… and all."

"Not from my best friend, I'm not! You're so embarrassing!"

"Wouldn't that be grand, though?"

"What?"

"If I married Tommy. I'd be your sister! It'd be grand."

Susan mimicked vomiting. "Spare me, I beg you," she wailed, drawing a bit of attention from the surrounding booths. Noticing the stares, she giggled a bit. "But really though. That's disgusting."

"Disgusting? Hardly! We'd have a June wedding. Lots of pale green and pink. Or peach. And two kids, one boy, one girl. We could name the girl after you!"

Susan looked horrified. "Absolutely not!"

Roberta laughed. "Can't blame me for dreaming!"

"Oh, yes I can. Have you forgotten this is my _brother_ we're talking about? The one who convinced me to eat mud no fewer than four times throughout my childhood? The one who would chase me around the house with his own snot on his finger? You can't seriously tell me you'd ever marry that."

"All of this is only making him more adorable to me, you understand."

"Ugh!" Susan threw up her hands. "Check!"

The next day, Susan slept late, finally rolling out of bed around noon. Still in her pajamas, she wandered downstairs, where she could hear someone (likely her mother) moving around the kitchen. As she entered the room, she froze mid-yawn. It was not her mother.

"Oh, er- hi," said Sirius.

"You're in my house," Susan said blankly.

"Er, yes."

"You're in my kitchen."

"Your mum let me in… she's at the corner store…"

Susan briefly wondered if she should care that Sirius Black had now seen her in her night clothes with her hair every-which-way and likely a trail of drool down her chin, but decided that she really didn't care at all.

He, on the other hand, definitely seemed awkward, which was odd, since he had never come across as the kind of person who could be thrown by any sort of social situation. He stood there, his eyes wide, not really moving, kind of stuck. Susan, mercifully, was still too tired to really care much what he thought, so she walked over and pushed him aside to reach the refrigerator.

"Orange juice?" she asked, grabbing a carton from the top shelf.

"What?" asked Sirius, bewildered.

"Orange juice," Susan repeated. "You're sweaty."

"Yes, well it is hot outside, and some of us have been working in the sun since it rose, you know," Black retorted, seeming to regain his composure.

Susan smiled to herself. What had gotten into her? It all seemed so unlike her- she hadn't even stuttered once. It was odd, but she liked it, and thought that if she tried to figure it out she might ruin it. "Water, then?"

"With ice. Please."

Susan got two glasses out of a nearby cupboard and filled one with juice and the other with water from the tap. "If you wanted water, couldn't you have just conjured some for yourself?"

"Have you ever actually drank water from an _augamenti _spell?"

"I can't say that I have, no."

"Well, it's terrible unless you're absolutely desperate. Very lukewarm, at best."

"Do you have your wand with you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Mine's upstairs. I'm sure conjured ice isn't lukewarm?" she said, holding out the glass of water.

"No," Sirius said, taking the glass.

Susan continued to move about the kitchen, vaguely aware that Black was watching her. She was surprised to find that she didn't mind him, really. There was nothing remotely embarrassing about cereal and juice, after all.

That is, unless you drop the bowl.

"Oh, blast-ended skrewt," Susan said, dismayed. Milk pooled on the floor, with bits of cereal rolling around the fallen bowl. She reached for a rag and knelt, only for Black to grab her arm.

"I've got it," he said.

"Don't be silly, it's my mess," Susan retorted.

"Susan," he said, pulling her back up from the floor. "I've really got it." With a quick flick of his wand, the floor was spotless- probably cleaner than it had been in the first place. "Magic," he said, with a twirl of the wand. "It's pretty useful."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let it make me lazy," Susan replied.

"Don't you think doing things manually that could be done with a quick charm is wasting time?"

"Shush, you."

"And not even a thank you," he said with a smirk. "I'm appalled, Ponds. Being related to celebrity has ruined your manners."

"Oh please," Susan said. After a pause: "Thank you."

"Wow, it sounds like you really mean it, too!"

"Get out of my kitchen!" Susan exclaimed, shoving him towards the door, cracking a smile against her better judgment.

"I'm hurt, Ponds, I really am," Sirius said, leaning back against her pushing hands. In response, Susan simply stepped to the side, letting him fall backwards onto the floor.

"Serves you right," she said smugly. With that, she opened the door to the garage for him and escaped to her room, still in shock at herself and wondering what in Merlin's name had gotten into her.


End file.
